Have I forgotten what fire feels like? I mean, not real flames of fire, but the heart kind… the inside. The sort of fire attached to cliche sentiments like “pursue what sets your soul on fire”. That sort of fire, not to be confused with the harsh moments of life which feel as though they’ve burned my inner core to the ground.
What does set my soul on fire? For so long it was writing, and I think in comfortable ways it still is. Writing is that thing I need to always remain tethered to, or I simply cease to function well. Do you know what else impairs my ability to function well? Not being creative. The less I’m trying to be artistic (and listen, try as I might, I don’t do well, but I simply don’t care about that. It is the doing that is healing and life-giving, not the perfection!) the less I want to tackle the nurturing, daily bits of life…
the things that encourage me to
- wash my face every evening.
- go to bed when my body and mind tell me it’s time.
- pick up a book to read instead of a remote to watch.
- stop doom scrolling.
Attempting creativity on a regular basis corrects all of this. It insures that when I do want to listen to music or watch something, it is of a higher quality and less fast-food, mass-made consumption.
It all seems like a no-brainer sort of problem, doesn’t it? And yet… And yet I struggle.
I’m trying, in this new month and second half of an otherwise difficult year, to do better–be better. I’m also trying to release expectations because I am a chronically ill person who struggles with occasional depression. I am forever planning things that old-me could do, and then being reminded IN THE ACTUAL MOMENT that mistakes were made and I’m not that girl anymore. It makes it hard, and to be honest I am feeling a stupid amount of anxiety over my trip home next month, paired with my book launch. There’s so much pressure, especially since I haven’t been there for three years and I am just so different now.
I want to harness the fire I once felt, the flames that fueled the making and doing… the fire that motivated that girl. In truth, I’m tired. Most of us are. These past few years have not been kind to us, and yet they’ve taught us to take note of the little moments that keep life beautiful. These thirty-eight months have educated me on the vitality of being more intentional and prioritizing connection, community, and kindness.
Perhaps the flames are still there, it’s just that now they are the slow, steady burn of a well-connected and creative life.
Rainy Day in May... 