I have had random comments on my blogs, as of late, and the most common remark has been “I did not know you were a writer”. I am always quick to reply “I am not certain I qualify as a writer but I like to journal”. The next question will usually be “when did this come to light”?
I had really never given much thought to this question until now. One of my favorite teachers (and there were several, since I loved English and Literature) would begin her class each day by having the class write in their journal for 10 minutes. Since I knew they were reviewed and graded at the end of the week, I was somewhat guarded with my entries. As an introvert, I would not allow my depth and honesty transfer to paper. Instead, I kept my entries shallow and brief… but what I did not realize at the time is that this door opened other creative outlets.
Another English teacher taught drama. I was intrigued with that possibility, as well. Now, knowing good and well that you would never get me on stage, I still signed up for the elective out of curiosity. I will have you know that I did end up on stage but only if I could be granted a one line part of the play…lol.
The next year, I signed up to be a teacher’s aide for another favorite English teacher, grading papers.
All of these experiences helped to bring me out of my painfully shy shell…whether I realized it or not at the time.
Fast forward several decades, I was at a point in my life when I thought I had gained enough introspection thru my life journey that I would begin journaling again…but this time without guarded insecurities. It was only when a mentor suggested I publish my journals on WP, that I was quick to dismiss the suggestion. After all, I prefer to be backstage and under the radar. I have never been one to seek or draw attention to myself… and certainly did not want to open up my personal thoughts for scrutiny, ridicule or criticism. Some time passed, as I continued to journal for my own fulfillment, when the same mentor would suggest that I may never know if others would enjoy my writings if I did not share them.
What happened next was only a mere attempt to avoid further discussion on the matter…and I published my next journal entry. Afterwards, I wanted to just hide under my bed covers…I felt that my privacy had been invaded that evening. I still cannot go back and read any of my prior blogs without critiquing my work.
As an introvert, I would always stay in my own little corner, fearful of an action that would prompt discipline. This is not to suggest, however, that I have led a saintly or “holier than thou” life…in fact, far from it! As a result, I was never the parent that thought my children could do no wrong. Since they were a part of me, I knew they were not only capable…but probably perfected the less than ideal words or actions. My daughters are convinced that I worked with the FBI in a prior life since I was deemed capable of knowing how and where to find them, forecasting every word, action or feeling they would ever do, say or feel. Life would be so simple if that were the case. The reality is that these abilities are the shadow side to being an empath.
I received notification from my mentor the following day, there were some like-minded people that liked the random thoughts I had shared. She preceded with “now, what you need to do…”and I abruptly cut her off by saying “nothing…I do not need to do anything else”. “But wait…you now need to share your publishings”. “I what”?!@#. That is how my journals were brought to light (the word blog makes it sound like the idea was intentional on my part). It was not about seeking acceptance, recognition or validation. Instead, it was about the off chance that if any of my writings inspired just one person…then, it is worth baring my naked soul to discover the significance of writing.
What I did discover that day is that there was a certain freedom about going public with my self expressions. It was about harnessing authenticity, honesty and having the courage to put myself on the line.
Having said that, I would never write on demand or upon request. To capture the true essence of myself, writings cannot be forced…they happen on their own merritt and in their own time. It could be a random statement that someone makes or the inspiration may hit me while loading the dishwasher.
I remember my mother encouraged me to consider Art School, as my parents have always been my biggest fans of my drawings, paintings and musings. Once again, I dismissed the idea and the dream of a lifetime, simply because my home /garden designs and paintings come to fruitation when I least expect the inspiration to occur. I will leave that crown where it rightfully belongs…with Elaine Griffin…mon cher ami and French classmate for 4 years.
This would kind of go hand in hand with the Landscaper, as an example. After one spends his work week manicuring client’s yards, you may least expect their yard to look like Jardins du Palais Royal. After all, why would you want to perform the 40 (+) hours of maintaining yards to spend your down time doing the same thing at home? This would also be the reason I eventually decided to adjourn from the working student opportunities I had in the riding industry during a 3 year stint. I stayed so busy tending to other horses, that I rarely had the energy to supplement any down time with my own horses.
My father on the other hand, thought I should consider going to Law School since I had an innate ability to present a plausible platform for probable cause and reason…lol! By the time, the debate was over, I managed to sway even his engineering mind to consider reasonable doubt. Again, this would mean being on stage and I wanted no part of it.
Writing for me is simply a reflection of who I AM…not who I strive to be or those that I would love to emulate when I “grow up”. Two such people come to mind with this statement, my mother and Scarlett. There is nothing more that I could say here that I have not said about my mother before…she is God’s rare and beautiful gift to all that know her while we travel this journey called life together. Anyone and everyone that knows Scarlett could never deny that she is one of the sweetest, kindest and dearest people you will ever meet! I laugh when I say this because there have been so many occasions when colleagues or clients would inquire in awe…:”is she real”? As an empath, I can assure you that Scarlett is real…110% real.
I am always content in the cozy little corner of my sanctum with little desire to engage in social events…unless I know I will be in the company of authentic people. It is rare that I will retreat from my corner…unless I feel an over-compelling desire to act as an advocate on behalf of an innocent child, animal or elder. I am not one to typically go against the norm…but when I do, rest assured, it is because I have a strong conviction That is the raw edge of my persona that I hope the world does not have to observe or witness too often. Writing is often more comfortable for me than engaging in verbal communication. It is not only therapeutic but it has proven to be a very satisfying and fulfilling component to pursuing creative passions.
Often times you will notice bullets in my journal entries, which are implemented to satisfy my OCD tendencies…to organize my otherwise random thoughts and to maintain rhythm of soulful expression. Typically, any thoughts, words, vision, inspiration and ideas come about in the early morning hours while the rest of the world is still asleep. This…and Pallas (the rooster)…is the motivation that moves me to get up each day and find inspiration in anything and everything throughout the new day. It certainly is not because I am anxious to work hard for that which does not bring meaning to my life.
Some of the most influential books I read early in life were written by Alexandra Stoddard. She quickly became my favorite inspiration – not only regarding interior design – but for her grace notes to living a beautiful life. My motto has always been to love the life you are living…and everything about Alexandra’s philosophies resonated with my energy. Once my mother discovered how enthralled I was with her work, she would purchase every new book of hers for me, as encouragement to stay on the enlightening path I had embarked on, as a result. The pages of her books would become so worn over the years but I still have each and every one ever published. I would even create a craft room in later years that would accommodate a wide selection of wrapping paper, stationary and every imaginable gifting and writing accessory I could get my hands on.
I am constantly plagued by the thought, “Am I living my dream”? “Am I serving my purpose”? This, I am not certain. If I should ever reach an euphoric epiphany…I will let you know. In the meantime, I will continue finding balance between reality and dreams, finding harmony in being and doing, processing the wisdom of age…and growth with experience. This, I know for certain 🙂
Homestead Memoirs 