This one has lots of feels...
I feel as though every time something is happening within me, it is then that I decide to write something. Let me explain further... Every time I have some thing inside wanting to get out, that isn't getting it's "air time" or seeing the air at all, I seek an outlet. I seek a way for it to escape, quietly and unnoticed. Maybe that is my mistake. I try not to let it get the better of me, making my heart pound every so often, reminding me of the anxiety, the looming fact that I will have to deal with the thing. Maybe, I should not be seeking for a crack that these feelings can escape from, maybe that is what makes them so unbearable? Yes, I know this. But our minds try to protect us from pain, physical or otherwise. To keep us alive, you know?
Well, there are some complicated things happening that are old news, but new news too. Divorce, mental health issues, distance, sadness, challenges we all face. It's the question of how to maintain love without loosing. The challenge is to maintain a life I love, with a person I love, in a place I adore that makes me feel free and not become enveloped into the whirlwind happening.... not around me, but in close proximity. I must keep loving. It's the comparison bit of it all. Having compassion and not feeling that that is heartless. The difference is that compassion allows us to show love, in a pure way, without inviting the misbalance into our own lives.
It is not heartless, and in fact, it is necessary, and quite mature and difficult. We do not carry more than what we choose to carry, and I carry only my own baggage. I have been going through my closets, and getting rid of things. I have tried out that "Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up" tactic of folding things in my dresser so that I can see everything, like if you were to look at book from the side, each garment a page to flip. So far, I LOVE IT. It is so much easier to appreciate what I have, and getting rid of old things makes me feel clearer. Less bogged down. More of just me, no other people whispering though the objects like words I should make my own. Influences I did not ask for. They may leave now. I am clear, confident, and creative, and I am firmly standing on my own two feet, here and now.
I also have a feeling that maybe I am a writer? *(Click here to see the "Why Because Stories" page where I totally accept this and declaring it part of who I am!) Maybe that is something I am. Maybe I am an entrepreneur? Maybe? Maybe I am all of the things for a time, and then I can change, or maybe I am always all of the things and they have seasons, like Elizabeth Gilbert has her seasons of inspiration, writing, collecting research then writing again. Maybe my seasons are still fickle, unsure of themselves, and perhaps they are many.... it is up to me to allow them to come and go as they please, and make the most of their ripeness when the harvest season comes.
I've been watching Aziz Ansari's new show, Master of None, and the themes are fantastic. I've really been enjoying it. He is bringing some cultural issues to light in such a great way. A way that people can accept because of the format. Change the way people think, expose the issues. Love it. The last episode I watched, the final one of the season, had a long quote from Silvia Plath that spoke about how the narrator could have starved to death sitting beneath a tree full of ripe figs, simply because they could not choose one. They were so overwhelmed with the choices that they starved to death, metaphorically, sitting beneath all the choices. We have to choose. We can choose and change our minds, as long as we are full in once we snap the stem. We have a finite time here, and our choices are what make our lives. We cannot go about it any other way. And it can be intimidating, it can be confusing, and painful, and heartbreaking, and it can be beautiful, delicious and juicy. We can choose one fig, eat it, save a few seeds, and from the seeds, we plant new little sprouts... we build upon our choices with new ones. We are the ones to water the ground we till.
I am feeling the cycles, observing change, and trying to free the feelings. Perhaps tis the season. Perhaps I am growing up as they say. Maybe I am just choosing to start now, although I have felt that before. The feeling that THIS IS THE DAY, and it is. THIS IS THE DAY. And TOMORROW IS THE DAY TOO. And this is the trick. We must meet each day as it comes, with the fullestness of what we are, then and there, WITHOUT THE JUDGEMENT. without the anxiety. I felt that that should be whispered. I am not ready for it to be shouted or spoken. Whispered is good for now.
These are questions that I don't need answers too.... and instead of buying another new notebook to fill for a while with these feelings, I am thinking more concretely of a real project. And trying to detach from material things, while also maintaining an appreciation for things that have true value and bring me real joy. Like I do love to write and draw on real paper, so I appreciate my pens that provide a smooth line, or dark mark. While I also appreciate the ability to type and share with a click.
I have been urged to collect stories from the elders of my family, and maybe to tell their stories in a memoir type of format... This resonates with me, as it is the stories that we collect and share that make us what we are. We humans are built upon shared stories and experiences. It is the individual learning the stories that creates the variations.. another topic for another day...
I will be ordering lots of index cards in the near future, and I will be keeping my ears wide open. Who knows if this will ever become anything other than just a collection for family, or if it will be more. But the idea of being able to capture the voice of nearly one hundred years of experience and change will be an amazing journey for me, us, them, we.
I hope to keep on keeping on the path of this creative journey, without overwhelm, and without trying to pick all the figs. That is the goal. To pick one fig, love it, closely appreciate is simple yet complex beauty, and then to devour it with out abandon, with all the passion that there is, but only on the days when I am there. The other days, I will not deny it its beauty and worth, but some days I will need to observe from afar. That's good too. Balance.