The View from Here

October 24th, 2007
The morning glory vine outside my bedroom window is throwing out blooms like there’s no frost in its future. And I know I should be too. The last few months I’ve been trying to force an interest in work that I can’t really affect or projects that don’t come to fruition in quite the way I hoped. I’ve kept mindlessly plowing away at them–just to be in control, to try and force my vision onto something that was either too big or too small for it, to make myself feel important or indispensable. I finally disengaged from one of those projects, and at first I felt bereft, unmoored, uprooted. It was something I’d invested a year of time and thought in, and giving it up was full of sorrow. At first. And then I felt a gush of relief, a release of tension somewhere around my neck and shoulders, because I hadn’t realized how hard I was working on something I’d grown to hate. Now I’m working on rediscovering my renewable sources of energy and redirecting it where it will make something grow. I’m starting to have small creative nudges here and there, the seedlings of ideas that might have some room to spread out in now that I’ve cleared the ground. I don’t want to jinx it or expect a genius idea to pop its bright blue face over the fence on my first try…in fact, I don’t want to try. For now, I just want to look out my bedroom window and remember how blooming used to feel and trust it will happen again and again and again.