The itch to write is really strong lately, but the words are just not flowing. Or, perhaps they are and I'm just not listening carefully enough. I need to slow my mind, stop the racing. Stop and focus on one thing.
I thank my previous education for my typing skills. They give me the power to close my eyes and just let the words pour from my head to the page, without a filter in between.
The sun that was so warm and bright this morning is hiding behind dark grey clouds and I feel like my motivation is hiding with it. So, I close my eyes and take in my surroundings. The kids are giggling downstairs. For a few brief moments they are all playing together. The giggles like a song to my subconscious, if only I could tap into their joy and steal just a tiny bit. Would they laugh less or would I be able to join? Probably neither. Perhaps stealing a little strength would deflate them. It would just bring everyone down.
Stop, breathe, listen. Inhale.... Mmmmm... Lilacs. Our tree is in full bloom right now and someone has put some flowers on the table. Sometimes, the scent is overwhelming. It is just another distraction. Sometimes, the light and the kids happy noises and a TV and the flowers and the smell of dinner cooking.... it's just enough to leave me reeling. Too much, just too much happening all around me. I crave silence and darkness to bring me back to earth.
This time, the scent of the lilacs - a combination of white and purple - is soothing. Like a warm caress of spring, wrapping me up and making me whole. It's a scent of home. It's a scent of spring. Spring is new beginnings, birth of the flowers and buds on the trees. Bugs and construction. Progress, for whatever that's worth.
I am making progress. I've been sticking to this weight loss plan of mine and doing okay. Today, I lacked appetite but I forced myself to eat breakfast and that turned things around for a while. I will still be on track after today. Progress is good. I have a dream of a new version of myself held firm in my mind. I don't need a degree to define me, I don't need to be skinny either. I know that I am enough, just as I am, right now. But I am taking steps to grow. I don't ever want to stop growing.
We cut back the lilac bush every few years. It grows tall and reaches the powerlines over our yard. It grows wide and hangs over the neighbor's fence. It constantly grows. No matter how much we cut down, it surges back in almost no time at all.
I'm glad I'm not grass, though I do sometimes relate. I struggle and persevere only to feel like I've had my head chopped off and thrown down, but I keep growing up. Keep starting over and pushing. Nothing really stops it.
I love to lay in the grass in the middle of summer. When it is soft and lush and green. Both literally and figuratively, nothing makes me feel more grounded. I am just a small piece in this life puzzle. Playing my part as best I can. Occasionally improvising and, often, dealing with an unexpected change of direction.
I am happy, for whatever that is worth. I don't know that in the grand scheme of things, it really matters a lot. it makes it easier to get things done, to spend time with my family and help them be the best they can be. When they are at their best, I feel I've done my best. This is my purpose. To find my dreams, to chase them and to teach those I love how to do the same. I want my kids to surpass my accomplishments. To grow up and 'show me how it's done.'
Some of my best writing comes in these times of melancholy. Some of it comes from anger. Sometimes, it's tear stained paper. But it's all emotion. The benefit of writing fiction is that I can take that litle bit of me and turn it into something so much more. I can turn it in to someone elses dream. I can turn it into someone's nightmare. The point is, I can change it. I can take my sadness and write the success of a protagonist. I can take whatever I'm feeling and make it anything I want.
This is where I thrive. If the rest of the world could get a tiny glimpse of what occurs in my head, they would want to live there too.
But life happens on the outside. And so, I must open my eyes and return to my reality. Guess it's time to cook some dinner and I should probably fold that laundry I've been avoiding all day.
And I am grateful that my reality is actually pretty good. I am blessed.