journal 08: possibility
Sunday, March 17th, 2024
It is mid-March and I’ve been thinking a lot about possibility. And the things that come with it. Wonderful things like dreams, excitement, novelty. And the things that don’t feel so great- fear, worry, doubt.
It is no small coincidence that as I sit in bed writing this, I notice a quote written on the chamomile tea bag that dangles from my mug. “There is pleasure in the pathless woods.” Lord Byron. I let it steep for a few minutes and add honey and milk for a touch of sweetness. And calm. It can feel a bit paralyzing to be without a path, or perhaps, to be on a different one than you thought you might be. This kind of uncertainty hardly feels pleasurable, but maybe it can be. And lately that’s what I’ve been thinking about.
How can we embrace possibility with more trust? With more faith? With more thoughts of all the things that could go right, instead of worries for the things that could go wrong? Like most things in life (I am learning), I think it begins alongside a deep belief in self. I am starting to feel a certain freedom in allowing for the unfolding, however it may be. As long as I show up authentically and follow the direction that inspires, the direction that warms, the direction that supports, I will be walking along a wonderful path of my own making. And this will not be a path without its challenges or detours because while that might be steady, it wouldn’t be very human. But it will be beautiful because it offers learning. And unlearning. And relearning.
This humanness is what has inspired me through these last few months of winter. I love how we try, how we reach for things, how we fall and get back up. How we move closer to someone else by finding their lips. How we move along, all things considered. Our courage and our frailty in equal measure. And now spring approaches so we get ready to bloom. It is the perfect season to embrace the gift of possibility and to welcome new life. New beginnings. New paths that don’t even exist yet in the pathless woods. But ones that we will create by putting one foot in front of the other, slowly but surely. Forging our own ways, unique ways. Along these paths, we choose discovery over certainty. We find beauty in what is unfinished. And we believe in the most wonderful of human capacities-to wonder and to love.
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December 23rd, 2023
I am writing on the plane. I asked my dad for his air sick bag and enjoyed the micro-expression of panic that flashed across his face. But I just want to write and my journal is stowed away. Plus writing in this way allows for the mess of grainy thoughts. It is difficult to be precious when you are writing on a bag that typically contains vomit. But I like the immediacy of it.
This time of year feels merry and bright. We spend too much money on gifts and fill plates with rich food and glasses with wine. But these are just ways to overdo the sentiment of I Love You. We are blessed to be able to give and we give in spades. It would be enough to hold each other but we have all of these other ways to love and so we do.
The couple behind me leans their heads together as they sleep. It’s their way of finding each other there too, that soft place beyond waking. The way we love each other gradually becomes something we no longer think about. The couple beside me touch each other with a sort of reflexive frequency. A hand on the knee, shoulders turned towards each other in conversation. Fingers intertwined. The way we reach for each other from our bodies and our hearts while our minds rest. I am often told that commitment is a choice to demonstrate effort with intention. I believe that to be true. But I am still inspired by this very unconscious quality of physical love, this very human reaching. This dreamy recognition of who it is we love and the half-asleep desire to be close. The way we surrender to it completely.
The word “surrender” has been following me around lately. Maybe that’s the quality of love I have been yearning for. That soft part in me choosing and being chosen, moving towards someone like breathing. Love that requires both conscious effort, and the human something that takes absolutely no thought at all.
February 24th, 2024
I am happy to be questioning, wondering if this path is truly mine instead of walking aimlessly. I want to walk down any kind of path as long as my eyes stay open.
March 9th, 2024
He was worried to give them to me with so many buds and too few blooms. I didn’t mind. I really loved them. The promise of the unfolding to come. And unfold they did. Within a couple of days, the careful buds broke open with a determined bravery and the petals stretched out in relief. The stems snaked this way and that and they too seemed to open further under the weight of the proud blooms. It was endearing that he worried but the gift of these buds felt sweeter. It takes a bit of patience to wait, being reminded that each living thing follows its own time. And it takes a certain stillness to notice this. I just had to swap out impatient anticipation for calm faith.
When he gave me a bouquet of buds, he gave me a dozen little possibilities. Each one unfinished but perfect. And ready to share, like a gift, all the beauty held within. Not as a choice, but an imperative. A purpose. A way of being.
March 14th, 2024
The people I view as most successful in their creative approach are those who don’t waver so much in their belief in themselves. People who can make a mistake without the immediate plunge into a spiral of shame and doubt. Instead, they treat their mistake as simply just that. A mistake. Proof of being human. And an opportunity for greater learning for those who are brave enough to accept it.
I spent a long time treating my mistakes as confirmation of my unworthiness. Signs of my deep inadequacies. And cue the comparison game- this person is busier, this person makes more money, this person is ahead of me. This person is better. I was the toughest person on myself and I’d catastrophize when I couldn’t see the complete big picture. I would forget the small steps that make up the journey. The small wins and the small moments of learning- together they made something pretty big. Still, only the failures felt big. And what a shame! To live in fear. Because at the end of the day, that’s all it is. Trembling, desperate fear. I wouldn’t say I live without fear now, far from it. But when it inevitably rears up and begs me to follow it down the spiral, I just take a deep breath and ask it to walk with me along the path. Sure enough, it gets tired after a few steps and I walk on ahead.
It is so important that you, the creative person, believe in yourself and trust your voice and celebrate your uniqueness. Through all of it. You are going to waste so much time picking yourself back up from your own self-criticism. And all of that time is simply better spent creating a whole lot more of your magic.
