A Beginning....

A long time ago I learned the value of the written word. How words could present an idea, invoke deliberate thought, and most importantly, paint a picture that anyone could see in the fathoms of imagination. So, I began to write. Many ideas formulated themselves inside the whirling electricity of my brain, not all of which make coherent sense, but that is the beauty of creativity. You begin somewhere and move forward, learning and growing in the process. 

I journeyed with my arts, especially my writing. I self-published a book, Hephzibah, which is a mere compilation of writings and poems. I felt on top of the world, writing about the experiences of life one moment, and the fluttering leaves the next. It was pure delight. Nothing could have prepared me for what was about to come. 

How easy it is for something to be stripped away. No matter how much you may grasp at it, it's likened to grease on a frightened pig. You can't hold on, no matter how hard you try. The irony, is that words were stripped away.....with words. You don't even realize what has happened until one day you awaken to find that your passions are dead and all desire.....extinguished. This was me, a mere 3 weeks ago. I had seen for a long time that my passions were dying, slowly ebbing away to nothing. I tried to reignite them, but there was no drive, no spark....absolutely no desire at all. I had not written, painted, drawn, taken pictures, or anything, for almost a year and a half. How does the time run away? 

I needed a breakthrough. I needed a new beginning. I realized this when my husband, Hayden, turned to me one day and said "Honey, you need to create again. Your passions have died. It's time to do something again." That was my awakening, from what seemed a creative coma. I did need to restore that which was once a daily part of life for me. That which was life itself for me. I was born to create, thus, without creating, life felt meaningless. In this awakening, I then realized how long it had truly been. I wondered how it had died in the first place, when was the beginning of that dark road. I could not tell. Not then.

I was pondering this when a friend posted that he was hosting a poetry contest. I didn't care if I won, all I knew was that I needed to submit something, that day, right then and there. This poem* was to be the breaking off of the staunch, passionless life that had overtaken me. This poem was to put the journey i'd been on, into tangible words, all the while, still walking it in life. At the beginning of the poem, passions are still dead, in the poem and in life. By the end, however, a mere half hour later, light has shone through the cracks and broken the hold of lethargy and despair, in the poem and in my life. By the end, I felt free, I felt light, I felt new. I had a passion that was all aglow in my heart once more. I could hardly contain all the ideas that crowded and swarmed my mind. They had all been waiting, dormant, for so long, that they were eager to be free.

That evening I brought home my poem to show Hayden. I wanted it to be appreciated. Through accidental miscommunication on my part, Hayden, being a writer and artist himself, thought I wanted constructive criticism on my work, which he did. This struck a raw chord in my heart and I was unsure as to why I felt so hurt by this, knowing that Hayden had done nothing to invoke such a feeling in me. I needed to find the source so this would not repeat itself. I was driving home to visit my family that night. A good 4 hours in the car alone is always a fantastic time for praying, processing and talking through things out loud . It was there, in the confines of my little Hyundai, driving in the evening's final glow, along the long, flat stretch of Hwy 1, that I figured it out. My creativeness died due to situations I had been in where I was asked to create, which I did gladly, only to have everything I wrote or designed so arduously critiqued and changed, that by the end, it was not my creation anymore. It was in those times that I said, "What's the point of creating? It's only going to be changed anyway." Hence when my poem was critiqued, in a healthy, loving way, it felt the same. 

Searching and finding the source was my road to healing. I could forgive and forget and now, move on. A new season lay ahead of me, shining like the sun on the birth of a new day. It's time to dive deep into those things which are so alive in me. Since that poem, which made the top 10 and acquired me an honorable mention, I have shot a wedding (photography, not gun :D), started painting again, joined the pottery club and started this blog. It is my hope that I can continue to write this blog, not only to keep you up on life's happenings, and hopefully keep it entertaining in the telling, but to share my bits of  nonsensical ideas with you. I hope you will continue to follow me on my journey. 

*The Journey

Today is a day where passions fall dead

Where thought of creating is filled with a dread

Once upon a time the sky was the limit

Hope was abounding with nothing to dim it

When was the change that turned my day grey

Now a mountain before me to my utter dismay

Over its summit my path was to lead

To seek out my passions with a very great need

The strength to step up was difficult to find

I reached out a hand and was held from behind

Determined I set my face to the task

With one way to go and one voice to ask

“Help me to climb this mountain of dread

To not just roll over and stay in my bed.

Help me discover my passions anew

To find a new joy in all that I do.”

Step after step I began my great climb

Nearing the summit with a chill in my spine

What would I find when I reached the tall peak

Would it make my heart stop, would it be what I seek

How my heart longed to soar with desire

To shake off lethargy and be free of the mire

To have a light burning as it did long ago

To reach for the heavens, limitations forgo 

I stepped to the summit, breathed in the fresh air

Felt the wind on my face so gentle and fair

A light was then lit, so fierce in my eye

A new hope within, I felt I could cry

Into the valley of rest and refreshing

I stripped off old clothes and began a redressing

I caught a new dream as it dared to pass by

A passion within me, a feeling to fly

And fly then I did, that very same day

Reaching dream upon dream in a brand new way

Creativity restored, my gift given back

With God as my head I had nothing to lack

A smile then formed on my uplifted face

A sigh of contentment, an enveloping embrace

My joy was reborn, so true and so bright

Not even the sun, compared to it’s light

Wherever you go today, whatever you do, never stop creating. And always remember to stop, hear the whisper and taste the sun.

till next time