Changing.

As soon as it hits. That’s what I’m attempting right now. Trying to write a story as soon as it comes to my mind. What’s happening around the world is giving me all the chance in the world to sit back, you know. That’s what everyone keeps saying. Self-isolation has been considered a golden opportunity to get to everything that you want to do. Especially that little folder in the back of your head where you bury all the things you would do, in a hypothetical world, when you get a chance. One of those things for me, is this blog and writing and really trying to explore how much I love this form of art. But there are so many other things that I have stuffed into that when-I-get-a-chance to do list box that a lot of it has started gathering dust. I’ve even forgotten about half the things on that list. So many stories I’ve been inspired to write, I’ve sent straight to that box, and now their inner workings have gone old and moldy. I don’t think I can write them anymore. 

Sometimes we’re lucky, and we have a chance to sit back and really get to that list, and I get to a story idea just before it gets moldy, or a drawing or a painting. It feels good when you have a chance to get to that list, and let your creativity shake off all the dust its been gathering. 

And sometimes you don’t, and the stories get moldy and have no more use or meaning to your life. And sometimes the list changes, the box disappears and life changes and there are just a lot of changes. A lot of changes. Here’s a chance to sit back, right. To get to that dusty old creativity box. I keep staring at it. There’s a lot of dust. There’s just been too many changes.

I’ve been listening to a song on repeat. When I’m thinking and feeling a little deeper, that’s the only song I want to listen to. I want to explore it over and over again, because it helps me explore myself. Everyday brings new perspective, every time I listen to that song, I see things differently. And differently every time. I see the fragments of the song, I see the person who wrote it. I picture them singing and what they may have been feeling at the time that they wrote it. I see their pain, happiness, confusion, history and stories. I see the stories of what makes them who they are. And sometimes I see myself. I see my own pain, happiness, confusion and history playing out in front of me as I explore the song over and over again, exploring myself. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

So anyway one the lines of one of the songs that I’ve been playing on repeat says, ‘she faces freedom with a little fear’. And with all the changes happening around me, that fear has become ever present. My list changed, and now I have I’m sitting on this rock with a beautiful view and the opportunity to jump in whichever direction I choose. Do I jump or do I stay? Do I let the cold water consume me, and stop my breath moments before. Do I need to keep reminding myself how the water dripping through my hair and wiping off my smile will feel like no regrets? What do I keep saying to myself moments before I jump? 

I’m not allowed to jump right now. I’ve been told to stay and feel the rocks beneath my feet. With all these changes, the world is telling me to take this plan and that plan, and the other plan, and the other other plan and just plant them. Leave them alone. To give them a chance, some time, and they’ll grow. Hopefully into formidable plans. But for now, all I can do is try to get to that to do list. That one which you only do when-you-get-a-chance-to. And one of those things is to write more, and to get to some writing ideas before they get moldy. 

I wanted to write a story about learning a language and the adventure that it took me on. I had it all planned out, and then this happened. It changed. But I like the change. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have written this. I started writing something again, that’s what matters, right. And I’m proud that I’ve managed to spill out a story.

I’ve forgotten half the stories I’ve wanted to write from that list, but I’m confident only half them were descent ideas. Or the five million other creative things that are on that list. Like the songs I wanted to listen to, series or movie to watch or book to read. Here’s the chance right. But the thing is, creativity needs that mood. Or that mood you need for a certain movie, or song. But when the mood is right, you know. That same mood that travels you through the poetry of music. It’s not just a button that you can press and turn on. 

And I don’t really get to that to do list all the time. And the mood gets distracted and I do what I love. I eat, and pray, read and drink, sex and swear, learn and fail, and make lists and plans. I live, dammit. And sometimes you come across a poem, a song, a sunset or a feeling that makes you want to write or create. And today’s inspiration is this poem. And it threw me straight into that mood. I flowed through my own pain, happiness, confusion and history while reading through it. And it made me feel like me. Plain old me, who likes lists and plans and jumps into the water with a little fear. 

Maybe tomorrow I’d write a story about learning a language. I hope the mood hits.

Here’s the poem that did it. 

Thanks, Raven.