A Mirror's Glimpse
It's Spring. I know I've said this before, but then it started snowing again, and for a few days I thought I'd made a mistake. Spoken too soon and majorly jinxed the seasons. But it's Spring and I can feel it in the flowers, from the sun. I have been tired, overworked and unsure of my next big steps. There are too many to choose from, and I feel I can only take small ones. So, as often happens at times of radical growth and change, Woebegone is recalibrating.
I do miss the simpler times, times when I was younger, freer and with less responsibility. I feel a great pull to take things away, off my plate, to calm myself and my environment. Though we live in such a tiny place, the city of Glasgow sits right over the hill, beckoning, pulsing, shining. Meanwhile, it’s Sunday, and I just want to stop everything in my life and melt into these endless hours. I don’t want to work on anything, and yet I have commitments I’ve made, exams to study for, many emails to send and multiple projects to move forward. I try to find time to write, but so many other things fill my time now. I sneak hours in the morning and at night, and my eyes well with water when I admit that I don’t write as much as I want, that I feel disconnected from my truth, from my honesty, from who I am.
After sixteen, almost seventeen years, I've got what I needed. I've got what I wanted. Put with distillation, I became what I sought, I became that which I was seeking. In that metamorphosis, I found my path. I’m still on that path. I became the butterfly after being a caterpillar for so long, a butterfly of love, of generosity, of inspiration and courageousness. I went after my dreams. I said yes to the possibility of leaving home for a year. I found beauty in all the little things. I created Woebegone. I said yes. I said yes. I said yes. Then, inevitably, there comes a time after all the yes’s have fallen into place, and one is living their dream, when new dreams start drifting down from the clouds and landing on the mantelpiece in front of us, and us butterflies start to cocoon again for the new season, just as we always have. I don’t believe it will ever cease to be this way.
I have recently re-begun exploring that which I am, that which I yearn for, that which I want. More importantly, I believe, I’ve been examining the reasons why I want what I want. I may not be where I want to be, and I may feel like the road is very long and I have yet to become my becoming, but there is always an opportunity to seek inspiration, to explore. I don’t know exactly what will come of this journey, not even what will become of this moment. What else is there? As with most humans, I continually seek a sense of purpose, to feel used, to be met with a life-giving sense of expansion which balances my choices with my gifts and talents. I know my gifts. (Do I? Do I really? Aren’t they also continually being revealed to me?) I know that I love being with people, that I am generous and loving and open and full of acknowledgement. I’ve been led to believe I am a gifted writer, though I don’t believe I do enough of what I’m good at, in that regard. In some senses I feel stuck in the centre of a swamp, having left the shore for another across the way, and I’m not sure how long I can stand to stay in this mud. I know from childhood experiences with swamps that the only way to get out of the mud, beyond the quicksand of eventual submersion and quagmiring thoughts, is to keep moving. We must keep going, keep engaging, keep believing.
I want to tell you more about this life I'm living, as time passes. It’s true that across the two year span that has passed since I began this blog, so much has happened: so much that my life and myself have changed dramatically, and I have to check in with myself, and you, every so often, to make sure I’m still telling the truth. My truth. I've still got drafts of my earliest posts, and reading them back is so strange. It's like looking in a mirror, in that the girl staring back at me is me, but I'm not entirely convinced that's what I look like. On a blog, especially one like this where I let you glimpse into my life... It’s easy to pretend that everything’s okay, that one can keep spinning plates without smashing one, even though your arms are getting heavy and you’re not sure you’re meant for the job. I realise as I look back on earlier posts, how commonly I only give you a glimpse of all the good things in my life, and hardly mention the bad. I wonder if I should change that, or whether it's actually a good thing. I'm not sure.
I believe in Woebegone. I believe in books. I believe in beautiful books. I believe in letting go. I believe in a healing and empowering lifestyle. I believe in other people. I believe in comedy and laughter, and drama, too. I believe in feeling. I believe in expressing. I believe in going there even when we don’t want to. I believe in my brothers. I believe in an unimaginable future. I believe in music. I believe in my friends. I believe in determination. I believe in community. I believe in conversation. I believe in being scared. I believe in being bigger than we know ourselves to be.