I just this week received my notice from SquareSpace, the wonderful vehicle for my Blog, of the annual renewal date approaching. I have to say with all honesty, I had much higher expectations of my little niche blog, 'a WHIMSPUN life'. Yet, as I typed this last sentence, I realized the gist of the problem; expectations of my blog, rather than myself. Without a driver a car will not get anywhere, no matter how shiny the car. My ego was quite attached to the layout and images of this vehicle, yet my drive, passion did little to put it into gear.
So the quandary; save the renewal fees (though reasonable) and admit defeat, or use the 'uugghh' feeling in my gut to really try to do more? Give it a year and re-evaluate? And again, my writing is stimulating the conversation with myself I should have been having much more often: why renew? What am I hoping to really do here? Whispers in my cobwebby mind remind me I had one primary hope; to connect, and even better, to help someone else feel less alone.
I spent quite a bit of time in the past year and a half working on handcrafting jewelry. There is a tangible reward when creating with beautiful stones a necklace or bracelet. So different than writing, I am always so clear when the piece is finished. That said, journal writing, which is the essence of a blog, my blog at least, has a very clear wrap-up. My problem of late (and early) is I have this passion to write something long; a story in need of an ending! Back to the jewelry! I created over 50 pieces just in the span of 2015. As I sell very little, I have a display of the progress of my skill over those months, and it is so rewarding. I have given quite a bit of my collection away; a chance for feedback, not to mention the opportunity to check my own perspective. All in all I believe I have improved much, from novice crafter to competent crafter/artist, still leaving much room for skill and design growth.
Unfortunately, though I created each and every piece of jewelry in the comfort of the supine position, beads on my side, large mat and try on my lap, after the holidays I had a series of lower back tweaks which really made it very difficult for me to bead at all. Even when entering a healing pattern I faced the insidious fear of "overdoing it"; the not just possible, but very real chance of decline. It has only been for the past week, entering the third month of the year, to have seriously considered sidling up to the beads again. TIME is one of the most susceptible facets of life to severe disability and chronic pain.
The past few months have though shown me (again!) writing is the least taxing activity I can engage; and writing has been the longest lasting passion in my life. I love writing. Except when I have written over a half dozen prologues-preambles-introductions to a story stuck on the tip of my tongue and getting bitter. I have read enough books on fiction writing to know without a doubt, even from my won experience, there exists no better cure for writer's block than a daily writing stream of conscious, IE. journaling.
So do I do it? Not really. Could this Blog be not only a shiny vehicle with some pick up and go itself, but a tow truck for my fiction writer's block? Of course. So what the get up and go is stopping me?
I bore myself. I know I bore you. I whine about my pain. You Hate I Whine about my pain. Nobody reads this anyway. Each blog sounds like the one before. I reveal too much. I am afraid to be honest. I should be beading. I should be selling what I have made. Nobody likes me. I am a fraud.
Wow; where did that come from?
It came from me, the deep dark cavity which holds the essence of what I feel for myself since I have become unable to pick up my kids from school; make dinner most nights; go across the river to see my very elderly mom; take my children to anything fun; see any of my friends, acquaintances; honestly feel like I have any friends, acquaintances; walk around the block; shed the twenty (thirty, forty) pounds I have gained; and the beat goes on, and on, and on.
So of course I have nothing better to do than renew with squarespace and continue; perhaps reset and start afresh might even be a better attitude. Either way, the enemy of good is perfect, and the enemy of piss poor is fear, procrastination, pain getting the literal best of me, etc. etc. And, delightfully, I can still bead. I have to stop my either or thinking, waiting for inspiration in one area to move into another. I hope to both push and be gentle with myself. The groundhog predicted an early spring, not to mention the scientists across the globe for the past 50 years. I want to be rejuvenated and I will start with what is right in front of me. I will write, I will bead, I will keep looking for miracles for my spine, I will pray as I do gentle yoga stands, I undoubtedly will suffer tweaks which may lay me out of commission. Yet please bare with me as I simply refuse to call it quits just yet. Even in the valley of mediocrity one can occasion upon dazzling skylines, find dreams not yet envisioned, bump into other humans who have room for friendship as I do. I might even find with consistent practice, untying sentences as I have learned to do patiently with beading knots, I may find I have produced a treasure trove of writing demonstrating my commitment to get better, do better. Better yet, learning to push push push when stuck in the mire, I might find I have grown from a novice at life to what I have always hoped to be; an artist at living, engaging in moments, noticing the inspiration and goodness which inevitably surround me, and certainly loving and laughing more, even with myself!