Day Two - Creation

1.16.16


So I’ve taken myself on this traveling expedition down to warmer parts of the world (like that Florida-Georgia Line) and given myself an assignment that is, at the present moment, only as irritating as that one piece of sand stuck between your toes after you have put your socks and sneakers back on your feet.  I love this project in concept.  It’s romantic and expressive and reminds me of my college writing professor traveling around the Midwest and entertaining me with her artful, sassy verbiage on bries, cheddars, and bleus. 

In the reality of Saturday night it’s this thing that I’ve now promised myself and others that I will do and now don’t want to for lack of musings and inspiration, and possibly (likely) fear of jumping back into an art that has been dormant to my hands and mind for years now.  It has been quite simple this evening to find anything else to do.  I’ve watched two episodes of True Blood, showered, turned on the radio, made s’mores over the heat of the stove, poked around on the Facebook and Instagram, and cleaned the counters.  Anything to resist writing something that may or may not be poignant, inspiring, or dull. 

As I sit here wondering about what will emerge from my typing fingers, I think that this feels quite similar to the notion of creating what is next in my life.  Here I am in this beautiful, open space, this pulsing abyss, ready and wanting, calling to be leapt into and discovered and molded and created and I am resisting and avoiding every opportunity to really dive into and concoct something new—The Next Thing.

I was on a call today playing with and discussing the idea of creation and completion—how they dance with each other, a waltz in the world that shines with the drive of fulfillment and glimmers with the energies of success and failure.  I drifted off into my own considerations about what I am creating next.  I admit freely that I am open to many options and that I am reveling in the notion that I could go anywhere, having no attachments or limitations.  And yet there is this slow, drawing concern about that jump: to be careful and choose what is the exact right choice – to not error in my ways and not be precarious in my leaping into the unknown.  It makes me question if this adventure I have set myself on is simply a diversion tactic of my own doing, designed to keep me at bay for as long as possible, to keep me writing the preface to the next journey, away from the edge and safe at the shore. 

And I wonder what must it have been like, in the beginning, when there were only the word and darkness – what must it have been like to create the universe we are swimming in.  Though I admit there were vantage points from that view point, namely knowing how it will all turn out and what was the perfect location for that one tree and the perfect depth of this sea and the perfect distance from the sun and the perfect construction of gravity that would throw and pull the moon just so.  But still, I wonder what those moments held, just before that creation began, those moments in the abyss, that moment just before light cast its radiant beams into the darkness and it began.  I wonder if there was any consideration of the perfection that was about to unfold. 

And in that precise moment of wondering, I am struck by that peace of grace – that however it is, and however it will be, will be perfect.  And though I do not have that same vantage point of knowing how it will all turn out (how dull that would be!), I do know that all my actions and musings and leaps are all a part of this perfect creation we are all dancing in and however it will be will be perfect, and I can trust that and go on with my creating, dancing, discovering, wondering, fulfilling, and completing and creating again.