Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Postcards from the Unthinkable, Vol. 4

Getting a bit of a late start this evening.

A glorious day dawned after the storms. The air is crisp and cool. The sky is crystalline blue. The lake is so clear it looks like a mirror. The flowers are standing tall again and their colors seem more vivid.

It's easier to breathe. The air is not so heavy

As I reflect on the day, and on the week so far, I find it harder and harder to say exactly what I'm learning. The strands are coming together and their edges are blurring. They bleed into one another and become a single organism rather than distinct strands. Even being clear around what I'm trying to say feels confusing.

It's a good place to be.

Everything is synthesizing and becoming a part of me instead of something apart from me.

It reminds me of a time when I was about to go on stage as part of a dramatic production. As we stood there, poised to go on, I had a moment of panic. I thought to myself, "What was I thinking signing on to do this?" It was just a moment. In the next, I realized that what I was about to do was in my body, part of the fabric of me, and that there was nothing to be nervous about.

I had a moment this morning when I wondered if I'd still be able to draw cartoons when I get home. Turns out l like doing it. Turns out, also, that we can reconnect with those things we did as children and gave up as adults when we started doing adult things. That we can reconnect with gifts we forgot we had or with things we love and thought we'd outgrown.

Earlier today, I pulled out an index card to write down an idea for a chapter in a book I'm working on and an image to go with the chapter. At the bottom of the card I drew a frame and added a comic with my character bringing the image to life.

It's becoming as natural as breathing.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an unusual Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

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