Hello, friends and passerby readers!
It has been awhile, as you will see if you care to compare dates of entries in my blog. Why? I was tired? I didn’t have time? I was scared? I was sad? I didn’t know what to say or if it was worth saying? Why now? Ah, perhaps a more interesting question…
I have been reminded lately, thanks in large part to the Winter Writing Sanctuary hosted by Beth Kempton, that, quite simply, I am a writer. Just making that proclamation, much as stating I am a musician, can feel liberating but with a little bit of pressure, as though now something is expected of me. A musician makes music and a writer writes, after all, right? So now I must do the thing. Or must I?
Claiming I am something can be something of a permission slip. Sometimes I need that “permission”, a push, a spark in the night and a smoke trail to follow… I see how in the past I have used enrollment in a class, retreat, or workshop as the temporary label I needed to say “it’s ok for me to do this thing right now.” And, even better, being a student gave me reason to do the thing but not necessarily claim any expertise. No pressure!
In my experience, there is a beautiful “learning bubble” that is created at the beginning of an endeavor when there is more curiosity than criticism, more play than product. Much like the initial excitement and resolve on New Year’s Eve for the coming year to be different, better, shinier, stronger, we are all a multi-mirrored ball of potential. No struggle. No doubt. This can be part of the attraction of unread books, unstarted projects, and wish lists—potential is a beautiful place to be. Or it can be part of why we I start so many projects and only get them to the point of doubt…
The expectations and inevitable comparisons we put on ourselves, whether from the very start, or once we’ve gotten a little momentum, can be deal breakers. A demand for product—and good product, at that, that can be shared and pointed at as a point of pride and accomplishment—can stop any artist before they begin and have one questioning their initial, or regained, enthusiasm. I think it can be doubly difficult to restart a project or passion. Do I still have the knack? Did I ever? Were people just being nice to me? What about these old, half-finished songs? Do I have to finish them? What if I’ve changed as an artist since I last connected with people and they no longer like my work? The doubt of being “enough” or otherwise “worthy” never serves me. It only stops me.
So here I am, starting again.
I am granting myself the understanding and grace that life flows in cycles, and that what once felt life-giving and sustainable has either changed or had too much attached to it. I am trying to be playful and curious, granting myself some space, and being kind when I find something (like comparison) that threatens that space. Sometimes I am motivated by overcoming fear or reaching a goal, and I may need to tap into that energy as well. I am granting any audience I may have had the courtesy and dignity that they may have changed, too, and if they’re onto different things, that’s ok. At best, I think, my hope is to be honest, and thereby attract friends and fans who resonate with who I am.
So, here I am, getting back to it. Being a writer who writes. Although I’m wanting to use this platform as a bit of accountability to myself (I do know I work harder and show up more regularly if I think it’s for “someone else”), I’m not going to make sweeping proclamations of what is to come or otherwise promise you I will have something for you on a regular basis. If you’re here, thank you. If you want to stay with me on the journey, let’s see what unfolds. And, see if we might encourage one another along the way.
What are you ready to get back to?