I'm dedicating this post to my fellow lover-of-words, Sergio Villarreal because while I say I will write daily, he actually does. And he's fearless about it while I pick the skin around my nails, pondering how foolish I might make myself look when I click the "Publish" button and well, Homecat probably doesn't. He's been a big source of inspiration and comfort in...well...just sort of knowing that while we both pay bills, have jobs and pay taxes, there's something about these 26 symbols that drives us in bigger and better ways than other things in life. He's a dad and a husband and writes about reality. You can read his blog here (it's a little different from mine, where I write about Fishermen, fairies and mermaids...Serg writes about the awesomeness of being a dad and husband). Reality and escape...all the same, really. One conversation, in life, I will never forget was one with Serg. We just sort of pondered the need to write...like taking a breath to anyone else, we write. Just kinda what happens.
I believe in tiny tokens of unmistakable coincidences; those pieces of truth which remain so unabashedly brazen that you cannot escape them. Those things which sing out boldly, reminding you to pick 'em up and keep walking. And some of those tiny truths, lately, have resided in this stack of cards that continually remind me that while I am not one we might all consider an "artist" per se, I am still beholden to these 26 symbols we call "letters." And, I am reminded (that I should not start a sentence with "And") that sometimes gifts are not for the many but simply for the self and we are constantly reminded of their sway.
The stack of cards tells me to follow this path, to fulfill something I might otherwise be unaware of and to be brazen in my delivery and so I am, these days: brazen that is. Brazen in my commitment to escape from the cabin fever that's taken over; brazen in my commitment to something bigger than myself, even if I have no clue what that means. Folks post photos of their babies, wives, husbands, new loves, dogs, cats and gardens and dinners on Facebook and still, I fear putting a few letters together, in order to share something of myself. It's ridiculous, really, the fear. How is it that words hold so much more fear than photos?
I have a job and I pay my bills. I go to the dentist, regularly and brush my teeth three times a day. I celebrate my friends' babies, weddings and engagements. I make lunches for the week every Sunday evening and I kiss my cat every morning before I leave for work...and I anticipate the pitter patter of his paws caressing the wooden floor boards, when he greets me, daily, at the door when coming home from that job that helps me pay the bills. I am vigilant when attending to my annual check-ups and I wear deodorant, almost daily. I pay my taxes on time and I go for long hikes on the weekends. I drink on special occasions and I get asked to turn the music down by my neighbors on occasion too. I prefer animals to people a lot of the time. And often, I wish I was packed solidly on a horse somewhere out in the woods. I also prefer trees to buildings- despite their architectural vision.
But there's a lot more...
I wish my world was comprised of this view while compiling 26 symbols in to words that meant something worth while.And I guess, at some point, we all have a story worth telling. Or...maybe I don't care whether my words mean anything to anyone else, sort of like that pepper-lemoned shrimp pasta photo someone shared on Facebook (not to demean the shrimp dish, I'm sure it was really delicious...though, a white wine would have accompanied those flavors better than the red).
I wish I could tell the truth like Molly Wizenberg and tell stories like Isabel Allende. I wish I was wise like Paulo Coelho and I wish my silly words could tell stories like Sarah Addison Allen.
Marrying Justin Vernon- that's a good place to stop.
Or maybe marrying John Paul White...I don't know...
I believe in tiny tokens of unmistakable coincidences; those pieces of truth which remain so unabashedly brazen that you cannot escape them. Those things which sing out boldly, reminding you to pick 'em up and keep walking. And some of those tiny truths, lately, have resided in this stack of cards that continually remind me that while I am not one we might all consider an "artist" per se, I am still beholden to these 26 symbols we call "letters." And, I am reminded (that I should not start a sentence with "And") that sometimes gifts are not for the many but simply for the self and we are constantly reminded of their sway.
The stack of cards tells me to follow this path, to fulfill something I might otherwise be unaware of and to be brazen in my delivery and so I am, these days: brazen that is. Brazen in my commitment to escape from the cabin fever that's taken over; brazen in my commitment to something bigger than myself, even if I have no clue what that means. Folks post photos of their babies, wives, husbands, new loves, dogs, cats and gardens and dinners on Facebook and still, I fear putting a few letters together, in order to share something of myself. It's ridiculous, really, the fear. How is it that words hold so much more fear than photos?
I have a job and I pay my bills. I go to the dentist, regularly and brush my teeth three times a day. I celebrate my friends' babies, weddings and engagements. I make lunches for the week every Sunday evening and I kiss my cat every morning before I leave for work...and I anticipate the pitter patter of his paws caressing the wooden floor boards, when he greets me, daily, at the door when coming home from that job that helps me pay the bills. I am vigilant when attending to my annual check-ups and I wear deodorant, almost daily. I pay my taxes on time and I go for long hikes on the weekends. I drink on special occasions and I get asked to turn the music down by my neighbors on occasion too. I prefer animals to people a lot of the time. And often, I wish I was packed solidly on a horse somewhere out in the woods. I also prefer trees to buildings- despite their architectural vision.
But there's a lot more...
I wish my world was comprised of this view while compiling 26 symbols in to words that meant something worth while.And I guess, at some point, we all have a story worth telling. Or...maybe I don't care whether my words mean anything to anyone else, sort of like that pepper-lemoned shrimp pasta photo someone shared on Facebook (not to demean the shrimp dish, I'm sure it was really delicious...though, a white wine would have accompanied those flavors better than the red).
I wish I could tell the truth like Molly Wizenberg and tell stories like Isabel Allende. I wish I was wise like Paulo Coelho and I wish my silly words could tell stories like Sarah Addison Allen.
If words could sound like music, then I wish mine could sound like this..and also, that when I'm in my 50's and 60's, my husband looks like that...but that he doesn't go to the Sea to die, like Kate Chopin's beloved Edna Pontellier. Or maybe I could just marry Justin Vernon of Bon Iver. If I was able to depict words of betrayal, then I wish they could sound like this because they do so, so mysteriously and I will have you know, you can only hide behind a lie for a little while, and then, you just have to own your self.
Marrying Justin Vernon- that's a good place to stop.
Or maybe marrying John Paul White...I don't know...
