I have spent many summer days reading other people’s blogs and books, instead of attempting to write my own. While I know I am an extremely artistic person, writing is a side of my creativity that has, for most of my life, been private. My words have poured into personal journals and letters.
Before my blog revamp, I was merely a travelling narrative storyteller, and I only thought of my artistic expression as being fully expressed in the shows I was travelling to do. While I miss travelling very much, I am thrilled the trade off is to stay put with a glorious husband, a peaceful home, and a loving pup.
Now my blog suddenly stands before me as a vehicle for expression. A place for beautiful words, thoughts, feelings and images. I’ve worked for many years at my performing. I’ve fought the hard, personal battle to not let inferiority rear it’s ugly head in my creative process.
I’m now learning that battle exists in giving myself permission to write.
In this moment, the only thing I know how to do is tell my story.
In our current home, the midwestern heat is suffocating. I struggle to breathe amidst the Texas dust and grueling temperatures. The only relief from the drought is had by staying tucked into our respite–our home.
I’m trying to daily figure out how to reinvent my daily circumstances. At the same time, I desperately dot want to lose sight of the craft of performing that I love, though opportunities are now few and far between. I’m trying not to succumb to anxiety and isolation. In place of in real life friendships, I now have long talks with my dog in lieu of faraway friends.
Lest I sound morbidly depressed or ungrateful, I’m reveling in the joy and beauty of being a newlywed, and creating an everlasting friendship and love with my husband. Amidst the newness of my covenant love, a part of my heart is breaking for my grandmother 3 states away, who needs more support. I wish I had her next to me everyday telling me stories of her big band singing days, whilst hugging her petite frame ever so tight.
The words I long to use to explain all of this and more with more clarity and precision are still somewhat bound up inside me, flurrying around in my mind, trying to find their way to my fingertips.
It is my hope and intention that with each writing attempt, I make more sense of my story. I want to share it in order to grow and bloom, not just vent and splatter.
“About 90 percent of the reason I write is for what it does on the inside of my life, and about 10 percent for what it produces on paper…When I sit down to write, for awhile I read magazines and send emails and wander around, and then what I finally get up the guts to crack through the ice of my mind, I find myself in an odd universe of feelings I didn’t know I felt, and memories I didn’t know I carried…”
~Shauna Niequist, *Cold Tangerines
*(currently on my reading table–highly recommended)