It's feels scary when I am stuck for words. I made a promise over a year ago to post "My Thoughts" monthly. For some random reason, I chose the 24th of each month. It's a personal promise to keep creating and sharing to help boost other people. It was also proof of how I keep my word to myself about growing as an artist. So far, I have done SO good! I feel proud of my posts. I am humbled by people's encouragement and comments on how it's inspired them.
Right now it's 10:27pm, February 24th...I am not truly stuck, stuck as I could post what I have been writing these past three weeks but I don't feel it's quite right. I am reaching for more vulnerability, rawness, and sometimes the more difficult things to share in my writing and I feel scared. I have sat for a couple hours pouring over my words; I could not make myself go to the place in my heart and soul to finish editing the post with charged feeling or deep honesty. The big haired 80's preacher in me went MIA.
Damn determined to keep my word to write and post, I sit back and start brainstorming. Something's gotta come up. I hear the fan running down the hall. I dump out a buncha books from my desk and flip through them, including a three ring binder full of poetry. Writing poetry has saved my bacon bunches of times as I can express what I feel right now in this hot second, unedited. I get some tea. Nothing is pinging in my heart and head to get through the final edit on this dang post.
I start going through photos on my computer looking for feelings, a spark of inspiration...more like a friggin' firecracker. I am so tired and have a bad cold tonight. I see a picture of my dad lying on the bed in my spare bedroom from four years before he was diagnosed with cancer and passed away. My eyes feel big, soft, and full of tears as I could see he was not well in that photo. My heart hurts horribly as to why none of us could see that. I feel bubbly fun energy from photos of trips I've taken. I feel a whole blender full of feelings from photos of my daughters with SO many memories of them growing up. I feel pinched heartache from photos of an old love. I feel warm pride and accomplishment from acting pictures from film and theatre. One photo caught my eye of a yellow flower in the middle of a dry rocky area. My ski buddy took the picture when we went to go on a mountain meditation trip. She is NOT the meditating type but was interested in having an adventure... the hilarity of that trip is for another post.
That flower in the middle of that rocky area was thriving. I grab my three ring binder full of poetry. Holy crap, I have submitted poetry for publishing and competition and it's always gotten turned down. Why not share one tonight since my regular post isn't ready? ...the thought of which terrified me and why I decided I gotta do it. I wrote this piece about ten months ago. So much was going on in my broken, hurting heart. I decided to make a piece of art out of it by merging it with the photo of the yellow flower.
I'll get back to the post that I've been writing and you'll eventually see it. It's good stuff.
PS... If you have never tried writing poetry, it's good therapy for the soul, a great way to express the angst of your inner gremlins, and to express those tender feelings. Give it a try!
One encouraging voice can mean so much.
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