I hate to be that person in the blog world that makes all these promises. But I really am genuine when I say that I want to do better about posting regularly. This is a whole new routine and I'll get there. Just wait until I get into a real writing rhythm. I'll blow your mind. For now, I've got bits of paper with scribbled sentences and notes that I've taken on my phone. Eventually I pull the laptop on my legs and get busy stringing them together. Marrying the pictures with words to give some sort of hazy dream that is our real life. I like it that way anyway.
Tonight I sit in an awkward crouching position on the edge of the bathtub, tedious about my work. Painting my nails a dark plum color. This is the outward tough that I need to mask the inward soft. It's kind of like wearing a leather jacket in the summer. Or putting rum and coke in your glass and carrying it around without drinking it. Sometimes you want to feel something that you are on the brink of becoming. We like to play imaginary games with ourselves to make that blurry line clearer. The line between what you are and what the world wants you to be. I want to be a writer. The world is undecided. Well, I am a writer. And to me she has dark fingernail polish, wears long sweaters, holds tightly a cup of tea and talks to herself. That is me. This is her. And the line isn't as blurry as it once was.
A little about writing.
I've found that I can paint a picture for you when it comes to rewriting or revising a large piece of work. Imagine planting a garden. Taking the time to till up the earth and fertilize the ground. Then small hole by small hole you plant all those tiny seeds in perfect rows. The seeds are all in order and with a little sun and water they sprout up. Now you see it, don't you? There's a beautiful garden where rusting dirt once was.
Then one day you walk out to this beautiful gathering of green and you realize, with one deep glance that it is not what you had planned. You planted daisies and lilacs instead of the tomatoes and carrots that you needed for your meals this year. In an outrage you pull up every last root until you get to the fresh dirt again. And then you go back. You plant what you had intended for all along. The food that will help sustain you. You think that first garden was a waste, don't you? But it wasn't. You learned about soil. You found a way to plant rows. And you became a gardener. So the second garden in its place is better than it could have been the first time around. It is a lot of work. But in the end, you are better for it. We all are better for it. At least the earth was ready this time for your great masterpiece.
I get inspired by a lot of little things. Spending time with family and friends is something I do not take for granted. Labor Day weekend we seized the opportunity to camp out at Lake Hartwell.
It's getting late, but I have one more thing to say.
Every morning on my way to work, there's a three second blinding gap on the highway. The sunlight slices through the trees, pouring out into the road. And despite wearing my sunglasses or pulling down the visor I'm still completely consumed by it. For those long three seconds I don't see anything in front of me. Only light and the hope that if I just keep letting my feet hit the pavement, and trust that the forward motion will get me through to the other side. I have realized that as long as I go the direction that I need to go, after those trusting seconds, I will end up exactly where I need to be. Becoming caught in that light is just enough time for me to notice that I can be in two places at once. Still, and gliding into what is yet to come.
Tonight I sit in an awkward crouching position on the edge of the bathtub, tedious about my work. Painting my nails a dark plum color. This is the outward tough that I need to mask the inward soft. It's kind of like wearing a leather jacket in the summer. Or putting rum and coke in your glass and carrying it around without drinking it. Sometimes you want to feel something that you are on the brink of becoming. We like to play imaginary games with ourselves to make that blurry line clearer. The line between what you are and what the world wants you to be. I want to be a writer. The world is undecided. Well, I am a writer. And to me she has dark fingernail polish, wears long sweaters, holds tightly a cup of tea and talks to herself. That is me. This is her. And the line isn't as blurry as it once was.
A little about writing.
I've found that I can paint a picture for you when it comes to rewriting or revising a large piece of work. Imagine planting a garden. Taking the time to till up the earth and fertilize the ground. Then small hole by small hole you plant all those tiny seeds in perfect rows. The seeds are all in order and with a little sun and water they sprout up. Now you see it, don't you? There's a beautiful garden where rusting dirt once was.
Then one day you walk out to this beautiful gathering of green and you realize, with one deep glance that it is not what you had planned. You planted daisies and lilacs instead of the tomatoes and carrots that you needed for your meals this year. In an outrage you pull up every last root until you get to the fresh dirt again. And then you go back. You plant what you had intended for all along. The food that will help sustain you. You think that first garden was a waste, don't you? But it wasn't. You learned about soil. You found a way to plant rows. And you became a gardener. So the second garden in its place is better than it could have been the first time around. It is a lot of work. But in the end, you are better for it. We all are better for it. At least the earth was ready this time for your great masterpiece.
Waking up outdoors and spending time in fresh air does something to your heart. Suddenly you realize that we spend too much energy worrying about insignificant details. All of it consumes our thoughts and eventually pulls us into action in wayward directions. Really, life is so simple. It's the little things. Every single time.
And so we'll continue camping, and getting outside of life as we know it. Because we need those steady reminders that Overwhelmed is so last year. In its place let's bring back Breathe and One Day at a Time. Who doesn't like those guys anyway?
Every morning on my way to work, there's a three second blinding gap on the highway. The sunlight slices through the trees, pouring out into the road. And despite wearing my sunglasses or pulling down the visor I'm still completely consumed by it. For those long three seconds I don't see anything in front of me. Only light and the hope that if I just keep letting my feet hit the pavement, and trust that the forward motion will get me through to the other side. I have realized that as long as I go the direction that I need to go, after those trusting seconds, I will end up exactly where I need to be. Becoming caught in that light is just enough time for me to notice that I can be in two places at once. Still, and gliding into what is yet to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment