I simply haven't failed enough
Maria Doyle Kennedy is playing on my phone and I'm on the bed, legs sticking out from under my unwieldy laptop. On the corner of the bed rests my dog, Hermione, anxiously licking herself for reasons only she can understand. The house is a hodge-podge of smells, all trying to rise above the scent of years of dogs rolling on carpets that never seem to be clean enough.
I haven't been myself lately, but I haven't been anyone else, either. I let March and April slide by without any real effort. My only constant being my Spanish practice. I'm doing what I can to keep up with my kid, who's already chattering to me in a mixture of Spanish and English at night that I'm meant to understand.
May came and I saw a change.
My friend, Steele, took a travel sabbatical from work this year, with her final destination being here, with me and my family. She'd planned and saved and worked out an adventure for herself. Steele went all in. I was lucky enough to have some of that gorgeous cosmic travel dust sprinkled on me earlier this month.
She's convinced me that all this mess that I'm going through in my head - the doubts and the constant resets - are Universal and someone needs to hear things from my point of view. Just because I can't see where all of it's taking me doesn't mean I shouldn't be keep record of the journey. I can't assume that it's going to lead to nothing. She's very strident in her opinions and I want to believe her.
For my friend, Val's, birthday we all went to Cirque de Soleil "Kurios." We were lucky enough to have front row seats, side view, on a thrust stage, so the acrobats were often literally overhead exhibiting their feats of beauty. While I could go on and on about the performance itself, what I learned most, what I walked away understanding and feeling connected to after the show, was the dedication and the agony that goes into making something beautiful. Flawless aerial tricks don't happen overnight and the shadow of bruises and impact are on every perfect execution.
So while I may not be ready for a public showing, or even a dress rehearsal, there's a dignity to the shadowed, battered pieces of my soul. I'm creating something beautiful. I'll keep flipping too high, unafraid of the fall, because at some point, I'll be caught and I'll soar.
I haven't been myself lately, but I haven't been anyone else, either. I let March and April slide by without any real effort. My only constant being my Spanish practice. I'm doing what I can to keep up with my kid, who's already chattering to me in a mixture of Spanish and English at night that I'm meant to understand.
May came and I saw a change.
My friend, Steele, took a travel sabbatical from work this year, with her final destination being here, with me and my family. She'd planned and saved and worked out an adventure for herself. Steele went all in. I was lucky enough to have some of that gorgeous cosmic travel dust sprinkled on me earlier this month.
She's convinced me that all this mess that I'm going through in my head - the doubts and the constant resets - are Universal and someone needs to hear things from my point of view. Just because I can't see where all of it's taking me doesn't mean I shouldn't be keep record of the journey. I can't assume that it's going to lead to nothing. She's very strident in her opinions and I want to believe her.
For my friend, Val's, birthday we all went to Cirque de Soleil "Kurios." We were lucky enough to have front row seats, side view, on a thrust stage, so the acrobats were often literally overhead exhibiting their feats of beauty. While I could go on and on about the performance itself, what I learned most, what I walked away understanding and feeling connected to after the show, was the dedication and the agony that goes into making something beautiful. Flawless aerial tricks don't happen overnight and the shadow of bruises and impact are on every perfect execution.
So while I may not be ready for a public showing, or even a dress rehearsal, there's a dignity to the shadowed, battered pieces of my soul. I'm creating something beautiful. I'll keep flipping too high, unafraid of the fall, because at some point, I'll be caught and I'll soar.
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