Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Time and Flying


I think what I really loved the most about being on the island was the sense that I didn't have to make any sort of decisions. From small to large, they were pretty much made for me.

Weather nice? Then a walk must be taken.

Weather crappy? Then we must stay indoors.

It's Tuesday? We better eat that grouper we thawed.

I didn't wake up every morning with my old familiar dread, that feeling of I need to do something important for myself, my family, and probably humanity because I'm almost fifty-four years old and I am certainly not going to live forever.

No, on the island I woke up every morning with one thought in mind- drink coffee on the porch, check out the weather, plan accordingly. It seemed quite clear there, sitting by the bay, that my one purpose in life at the moment was to appreciate that beauty and peace that I had been so generously offered. Nothing else needed.

But now I'm home and those feelings of dread are back. Those feelings of needing to get off my ass and out into the world which is the scariest thing I can imagine. I'm so spoiled with my ability to plan my own schedule, take on what I want, avoid what I don't.

But just as I had been given the bay and the water and the sky and my daughter's joyful presence to appreciate, here I know that I have been given this one life with all its responsibilities to attend to, all this potential to fulfill.

Just as it would have been a complete waste of time and a sort of sacrilege on the island to have stayed in bed all day when the sun shone and the bay was calm, it seems a sort of sacrilege to be wasting this life with fear and indecision.

The funny thing is that I keep feeling that if I could somehow make money by writing, my life and potential would be fulfilled. Perhaps it's just an obsession, but writing is what gives my life its shape and form and I can't imagine a life where I'm not constantly weighing words to put down, to give it all meaning, whether here or in whatever other projects I'm working on.
And I can't figure out if that's my truth, my destiny, or just a child's wild dream that it's about time I gave up on and dedicated myself to doing something else.

Although honestly, no matter what I do, whether it's hanging the clothes on the line or putting in the tomatoes or standing in Publix trying to decide between organic carrots and regular, part of my mind is busy with what I'll be writing next. I don't think I could any more give that up than I could give up air or water.

Ah well. Something to think about as I take my walk. It's a beautiful day and I need to get out in it.




7 comments:

  1. The funny thing is that I keep feeling that if I could somehow make money by writing, my life and potential would be fulfilled.

    This is something I'm wrestling with, but something that my Dad is still tormented by even more. The notion of checking off that box of some sort of success/ validation. Needless to say, it's starting to wear thin for me. But now I'm trying to figure out what the alternative is, and if it's even possible...

    One thing though: I think, that you live for your art is a wonderful thing in itself. Also, the happiness you instilled in your daughter, that there is a big one. You can be really proud of that one. So many people live without ever knowing that peace, that joy.

    I dreamt a few years ago of my daughter (to be)- where it was just her childish face smiling with complete release. Just that, but one of my dreams that are more than a "dream". I knew then that my children would not have to carry the gray clouds I carried at their age. I would not pass sorrows on to them as I had feared. It was a real gift for me to know that.

    It is such a beautiful thing to nourish. I think you know that better than anyone I've met.

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  2. You're already doing what you want to do - writing - people are reading it. Does it really matter whether or not you earn money from doing what you love to do?

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  3. I think the issue is pressure to earn money separate from the love of writing. I suspect we Boomers have been seduced by the "do what you love, the money will follow." Ms. Moon will write, she will always write, the question is could it substitute, by earning power, for having to get out in the world again and get a j-o-b. I suspect keeping what we love separate from the $ issue might be what saves us.
    I don't know for sure, tho.

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  4. If there's one thing in this world I want it is for my children to know they are loved. Just that. They are loved. And I think they do.

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  5. We do, and we know what a blessing that is, too.

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  6. Well then, I can die happy.
    Not too soon though, I hope.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.