Day 1 (of 13138)

A few years ago, my friend Rachel was telling me about a woman she knows up in NH who she found rather inspiring. She had designed her own house, published a few books, and was some sort of artist - I want to say weaver, but that could be just what's stuck in my head and in no way accurate.

The important part about this memory - distorted as it may be - was how I felt upon hearing about this person... and the way it resonated in my solar plexus. I wanted to be that brave... that fearless in my artistic and personal pursuits. To possess such confidence and to have faith in my ability to create such things for myself and follow a path that was genuine and fruitful.

I have been writing for as long as I can remember. I think my first book was one I wrote about having my tonsils removed. My mother still has it in a drawer full of special papers and creations by both me and my brother. I've always loved writing, and I've always written in one form or another. But I've never believed strongly enough in my ability to be an author that I just shoved off and did it.

Until today. I had a story pop into my head a few nights ago, a book idea, which is not all that unusual. I have those all the time... usually children's books or young adult fiction. I let them kick around in my head and sometimes write down titles or short little descriptions... but I never commit to the actual writing because I always get worried I will fail when it comes time to send it out and find a publisher.

Today I decided to break that cycle of stagnation. I began writing what will hopefully become my first children's book. I figure, it's in my head and it's the clearest, most marketable idea I've ever had. It just keeps coming to me... pouring forth like a steady trickle and begging to be placed somewhere permanent. So who am I to argue?

I have no idea who will illustrate it. I have no idea how to send the manuscript out, find a publisher, cut a deal, etc. But at least I have gotten to the point of no longer blocking myself from writing it and believing that when it comes time for the next step, I'll figure it out.

So whether this leads to something you can one day buy off the book shelf or not, it still marks a large leap for me and my fear of commitment (and lack of self-confidence). It marks a shift in the way I view myself and the relationship I have to making choices and creating movement in my life.

I've been thinking of Rachel all day... appreciating the moment wherein she told me that story, because it carried forward to today and changed the way I approach my life. It's funny to carry a gift like that around with you and choose to unwrap it several years later, but I've always been a bit pokey about opening up to good things.

Plan Z

Do you have a dream life you picture? Something different from your chosen course and simultaneously enticing and frightening to you because of its unknown qualities or its connection to insecurities, shadow beliefs, or values passed down through multiple contexts.

Maybe you already are doing what you love--if so, I suspect you are in the minority, simply based upon my own experiences with "adults" and their jobs. Or rather, how they view and experience their jobs.

It is quite a struggle to balance the sensible, responsible, adult path with the internal, id-driven, ideal path. The one you believe in your heart of hearts would make you happy... but that you can't quite believe could be possible. Or sustainable. Or fair to everyone else in your life.

My dream life: writing and crafting for a living. I want to make jewelry, write children's books, and travel and be with my family as much as possible. I also have fantasies of teaching a dance or choreography class to kids. Or running an artists' retreat with my husband. Or opening a theatre with him and a friend of ours. Or creating a community arts facility with studio spaces, classes, workshops, and a performance space.

Instead, I am pursuing a career in school counseling. Maybe it's a good compromise as I seek to find financial stability, health insurance we don't need to panic about every 10 seconds, a schedule that will work well with my daughter's needs, and something that won't make me feel like jabbing pens into my eyes due to overwhelming boredom.

Maybe not. Hard to say, as I've never done the job. (Which is what this coming year is about, I suppose.)

In the meantime, I continue to think longingly of all the books I'd like to write, all the jewelry and crafting ideas I'd like to pursue, and the multitude of projects Andy and I have talked about creating at some distant and undefinable point in the future.

It's difficult to know what is holding me back more. The external or the internal. I suspect the latter. I am hoping this year will bring much more clarity. Sort of a miraculous epiphany and the courage to pursue it despite the misgivings of others.

We shall see.