I have journeyed a great distance creatively in the last year. -It feels strange to say that and yet I know that it's so true. There's not a lot of proof: I have ink stains smudged on the bridge of my left hand every once in a while; I have only sporadic journal entries with bigger gaps than ever before; only if you look closely you will find deep calloses on the tips of my fingers.
And yet there has been the deepest churning and shift happening inside me. I feel like I've been hibernating for the last year in a way [this is all a paradox because I also feel like I've been doing so much and experiencing so much; I also have been busy], I needed a long rest and quiet. I needed some healing time. I needed to push away and be placid and not delve into the deep pool of feelings that sits inside of me; I just needed to enjoy the coffee when it was here and enjoy days out and tables filled with friends.
I've been re-reading old journals in the last little while, and have discovered a lot of treasure. I have been both humoured and encouraged by my early teenage angst, the loathing and waiting and sprawling dreams and wonder; thankful now to be more equipped to deal with emotions and experiences, and inspired by my determination and wild, innocent heart. And there is this definite shift when I moved to Toronto- of course there was, I packed my bags and headed to the big city with no job and no savings and no idea what day-to-day adult life requires of you. I got on a plane and dropped myself in the middle of the ocean. There is a shift in tone in my personal writings- the struggle and battles became mundane, like how to budget and how to keep your house clean and how to deal with weirdo's in the city you may encounter, and also very serious with bigger consequences to each decision I made. This has been holding to the fire everything you think you're going to be before you have any idea how you'll feel when faced with "real life".
There was a lot of toil and a lot of strife, and a lot of self-inflicted grief [for SURE], and there was being hard on myself all along the way, not being honest and faithful to the person that I aspire to be. And all these things affect being able to make art [at the time]. Art = truth, and requires abundant truth, and being kind and gentle with yourself. It requires transparency with your inner self, and reflection. Mindfulness. [mmm, good words]. And I wasn't practicing these things very well; there was a pouring thunder storm and I was stuck in it and trying to get home, but I was also making it rain. Add into the mix I was being hard on myself for not "getting anywhere" or "advancing creatively/ professionally", I was extremely critical of my life and my work.
I have been on a journey to learn how to be kind to myself, very gentle and safe; I am remembering what it is like to play with words and ideas and songs. I am learning how to shut off the critical voice and write pages and pages for nobody else but myself. I am focusing on being intentional and mindful of my heart and [on a less heavy note] my time, and making room for what I love to do.
This is a very informal declaration of cleaning house. I've been brainstorming ways to fit creativity into my day-to-day schedule because it should be valued with my time and attention. Specifically for this blog I've been dreaming of ways to make it a more substantial place to visit, and for a while [after I stopped being so blundering and just didn't know where to start and what to say] I wasn't sure what to write about, so I often just didn't. I have some fun ideas for [maybe?] weekly segments that I'm really excited to share, though wonder about their immediate launch as I am about to embark on a whirlwind adventure of a trip home and a dearest sister's nuptials.
All of this to say, I have some fun things coming and songs to share [for real!] and thoughts to write out. And thanks [always, over and over and over] to all who continue to journey and carry me. I can't do it without you.