(Caveat: this is a stream of consciousness kind of post. In other words, I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering where it will go. You have been forewarned.)
I want to write and yet I find myself staring blankly at the keyboard.
Oh, I occasionally reach for the mouse and then before I know it, here a click there a click and I have found myself in distraction-land. Being a metaphor lady I am currently searching for the lesson in this. It is too simple to say I am easily distracted. It is too easy to blame it on lack of inspiration or the absence of old fashioned stick-to-it-tive-ness. Well, my friends it may be simple and easy, but facts are facts , I am too easily distracted, particularly when there is a task that I deeply desire to do.
One would think that if you want to do something you would simply do it. Not so, not so at all. It seems to me that simply wanting to do something is not enough. Deep desire does not seem to be enough. There must be something more that is the impetus that gets my feet moving, my hands typing, myheart creating.
Deeply felt passion.
You must find your passion and tap into that. Passion is the life force that moves you. Passion is the energy that finds its way from your heart and into your hands, feet, and voice, whatever it is you need to get moving. It will happen when you discover your passion. Your passion will not fail you. But like most fires it must be tended to. You must keep feeding it; even it is bits of kindling here and there.
You see, true passion never dies.
I know that may seem to be a ridiculous claim, never being a long time and all. But I tell you it is true. If you are truly passionate about a particular thing, it will endure even if you find the need to bank the fire for a while.
At least, this is what it seems to be for me.
I have several things I am passionate about. But wait, didn't I just write "You must find your passion (singular) and tap into that."? Can you really have more than one honest and true Passion. Can you divide your attention thus?
I have found it is quite acceptable for me to be polyamorous in this situation. In the past I tried to narrow my passion down to some singular love. At different points in my life, I have tried to be exclusively devoted to herbs, to childbirth, to art, poetry, fiber arts or dance. I tried because I thought I must stop this Jill of all trades nonsense and attempt to become an expert in something. But to be monogamous in my passions simply does not work for me.
Enter the Renaissance Woman.
The common term Renaissance (wo)man is used to describe a person who is well educated or who excels in a wide variety of subjects or fields
Does that really fit? Does it even matter?
In a way, it does because it gives me comfort in my way of thinking about myself. It allows me to cut myself some slack. The fact that I know a little about a whole hell of a lot suits me. I never really have claimed the title expert, but that is okay really. What does being an expert even mean?
An expert is someone widely recognized as a reliable source of technique or skill whose faculty for judging or deciding rightly, justly, or wisely is accorded authority and status by their peers or the public in a specific well-distinguished domain. An expert, more generally, is a person with extensive knowledge or ability based on research, experience, or occupation and in a particular area of study.
Ok, so I am never gonna be the One. I look at my many teachers and I think to myself, “Man, she is cool. Wow, I wish I could be as cool as her.” Yeah, silly I know. A woman my age thinking things like that. Doesn’t programming suck?
Straight A's, Super Woman, Saint, all cursed epithets I have worn in my life.
Consider this part of my deprogramming.
I am me.
Me in my imperfections.
Me in my perfections.
I will never be Rachel Brice. I will never be Susun Weed. I will never be Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, or Tasha Tudor, or Emma Goldman and any of the many woman who I think are so damn cool.
I am simply the lady, who talks to plants, tells stories, plays with children, picks away at her mandolin, spins pretty decent yarn, and dances her heart out. I am the one jamming to my IPod on the El, skipping through leaves on South Street. I am the one who talks to every dog, smiles at most every human and still cries at every birth. I am the one who will listen and cry with you, stranger though you may be. Dream interpreter, believer in humanity, lover of the earth, and I can even shoot whiskey.
Weird and wonderful.
And you know what? I’m pretty damn cool.
Note: Guess what? This is you too. Just replace your name, your likes, your heroes and there you have it. You. A pretty damn cool human being who rocks this world!