Wednesday, April 1, 2015
What Do You Most Want?
Well, it's been forever and a hundred days since I last wrote to you. I'm not sure where I've been but I've been a lot of places.
I've just recently completed 41 days of creative play where I painted or drew for 41 whole days in a row (minus weekends) and invited my YES group to play along with me. And many of them did and it was full of great BEAUTY and life and pure awesomeness.
I had a deep and beautiful conversation with the miracle-worker, Elloa Atkinson. You can listen in on our raw and real (and recorded) conversation by clicking HERE.
I've been doing laundry and dishes and making lunches each day for my girls and all the other stuff that comes along with being a wife and a mommy. I completed an absolutely amazing art class with the incredible woman and artist Flora Bowley. I've taken long quiet walks by myself. I've written a little. Sat with great doubt and wild awe and a beautiful, old woman who was dying.
I've breathed deeply and not enough.
And on and on and on...
I pause for a minute as I write this to watch the cursor blink and to take a deep, deep breath. To look out the window at the newly leafed out trees, to listen to the muffled chatter in this loud coffee shop.
As I pause, I notice a question just rose up from somewhere:
What do you most want?
And an immediate answer:
To be free.
Free to - what?
Free to say what I want to say in the way I want to say it. Free to not be eloquent, to not edit, to not be "good." Free to be ALL of who I am, without apology. Free to have mine not look anything like theirs. Free to be scattered and all over the place and non-linear. Free to be inconsistent and forgetful, quiet or loud. Free to tell the truth even when my voice shakes. Free to tell you that it seems the older I get the less I know. Free to tell you that sometimes I feel such a heaviness in me I think I'll fall down with all the weight. And sometimes it feels like my heart can't handle the great miracle beauty of this life...pink flowering trees in full blossom, humming birds who come so close I can feel the wind from their wings on my cheek, the brightness and innocence of my little girls' smiles - the great beautiful honor of sitting by her side while a woman I loved and love dearly takes her last breaths.
Life is crazy-hard and wildly messy. Unbelievably, miraculously beautiful.
And I feel it all and it's hard to feel it all.
And I'm grateful. And tired. And grateful.
I just stumbled upon the following words: