Asking and Art
I’ve been wondering for years…what art will I make? What am I good enough at to actually do and share and be loved for. Is that art? Is that from my heart? Getting it from my fingertips to the keyboard made my heart wince. When I go another step I see myself running around in circles chasing assignments and opportunities to show somebody how good I am at something that I told them I would do and they agreed to pay me money. And not so deep down, tonight when I gifted myself the flash away from the shiny money things, a quick peek at my stuff, stealing a sliver from my peripheral vision — I see all of the abandoned kids who feel like they aren’t enough — not cool enough or not exciting enough or not loveable enough.
The reason I can see that is today is that this weekend I mandated time away for myself. I drove 8 hours to Twin Peaks (not the cool TV show town) and spent a weekend with 4 other women who in some way shape or form are like me and are doing or have done what I want to do. I drove myself down, fortified my spirit by listening to Amanda Palmer narrate her book THE ART OF ASKING, with the goal of producing something that I could submit. A piece of writing. And I did it.
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I worked in something I’d written a while ago. Vanessa the amazing host, told me that I should write the stories that people loved to hear, the stories that people asked me to tell. It’s not lost on me. I have stories that friends retell and even claim it as a story they tell too.
I read this story to the group. They had solid feedback, including some of what I’ve been told before, “ not only is it good, but you have to read it. It’s part of the story, you telling it.”
And today I was back and polishing the shiny things that make people happy with me and increase the numbers in my bank account. And I managed to do yoga this morning. And I got some good work done, even a few wins to add to the lagniappe pile. What I didn’t do was sit and dedicate time to my work. I shared some stories on social media that will give some folks fresh or renewed perspectives on the state of things. I counseled a friend about teen angst and parenting. I took my daughter to see Rocketman, again, and this time we got to sit next to each other and sing and wipe tears and eat chocolate together.
I didn’t meditate today. I didn’t take a long walk today. I didn’t resist the brownies today. I didn’t meditate today. And I can feel the urge to blast myself from inside with the stress of a cortisol infused not enough campaign. Well, I’m going to resist. It feels shaky and odd. I’m determined to choose the creativity and meditation and exercise tomorrow while tending to the shiny things. I’m counting on my friends knowing that I am entering a long overdue stretch of me territory and that the friending I’ve supplied (there really is none better) over the years will have to suffice — these hours are mine. Stay tuned, the fruit is going to be juicy.
