I sometimes fear the deficit. I will run out of things to write. To say. But creativity is a renewable resource, and I know how to fill it. I know how. Nature walks and travel and exploring museums. I have so many ways to fill that cup. That bucket. That bathtub of creativity inside of me. Silence. Music. Color. Movement. Paint. Clay. This boundless energy of creating that flows and flows. I trust that it will continue to flow, always.
I also fear the surplus. I have so many, many stupid and useless things to say. I say things that no one wants to hear or read. I have interesting things and dreadfully banal and boring things to say and think and write. I should shut up. I should keep it in. I have learned that many people love me and some people definitely do not. Those people will be annoyed by me. I do not want to clutter the world with these stupid, useless things. But. Is this fear keeping me silent? Is that what I want to teach my daughter? Will I continue to let this fear keep me quiet? I have bathtubs of beauty and love to give. Or, you know. A lot. Probably more than a bathtub. Our differences make the world strong, and I have compassion for the people who cannot stand my annoying sensitivity…so…I trust that they will just look away and tolerate me quietly. Or, if they do it out loud, maybe I’ll miss it and it’ll bounce right off my back that’s soaking in the sunshine and joy I am bringing to others.
I am driven by - motivated, compelled - by emotions. It’s not the best way to live. Or…maybe there’s no best way. Just…whatever way we do it. So, here I am, full right now of happy love and sad love and the nostalgia that hasn’t even happened yet but I know is coming, and it’s compelled me to write here, by the taco truck and the noisy highway. Thank you, beautiful people.
People - such beautiful people and children. I have been so very lucky in my life. I have been surrounded by people who are gracious and grateful and appreciative and loving and weird and funny and broken and lost. I have been them. I AM them. We are all one. But sweet lord, why have I borrowed all these big, future feelings of nostalgia when the ones I have right now, today are even too much. So much they are bubbling over, spilling out my eyes when I see the children. And their parents. I cannot keep my hand from holding onto my heart. I watch them walk and speak and I am so proud of them. And I think in this moment that I will miss them so much. Will I? Where do these profound emotions even come from. Well, in any case, it feels like love, and my hand holds my heart because it’s gonna burst. How did I get so much of this heart-feeling stuff? Are other people holding their hearts? It hurts. The joy and the sadness, the pride and the fear. There’s just so MUCH of it.
I am facing an ending and a beginning. I’m so tired of the same old story of fear of the unknown. It’s exhausting and stupid to be afraid of the unknown. I know from plenty of experience. So today I’m saying no. Or, yes. I’m choosing love and trust over the fear. I just gotta hold the fear back…no…put it on the page! Hand on heart, but fingers on the keys. I love you, Cleveland cubs.
Now, for a taco.