Before the Creative Process
Ever get those crazy thoughts as you’re nodding off to dreamland?
Care to know my latest?
(Since you’re obviously reading this, I’m gonna assume you’ve just glanced up and given me a nod so here goes!)
The thought flitted across my mind so quickly that it was almost hard to capture and do the quick math.
A day out of 18 thousand or so.
(Guess that’s why it feels so easy to let one day blur into the next. The 18K or so, of course, varies according to mileage. Now in my 60’s—a quick 300 x 60 gave me the low number of days I have lived. The accurate number is much closer to 24K.)
My thoughts were in a swirl at this sizable amount.
Counting days feels much different than counting years. That’s a lot of days, many moments, a lot of memories, an extreme abundance of choice.
I lay there thinking. The enormity almost impossible to get my head around. Realizing how casual my thoughts were about an individual day. Just a day. There would be more. I had already spent so many. I reflected on my choices—especially those unconscious ones. Days where I’d let fear, worry, indecision—you name it— rob me of the day.
And so I thought. Deeply, upon my silk pillow in the darkness, I thought.
I don’t want to miss any more moments.
Be so distracted that I miss the sweetness right in front of me. Rinse and repeat life because making a new choice feels too scary. With so many days now spent, I want every step forward to be conscious, deliberate, love-of-life filled. I want every day to count.
I considered the framed words hanging on my bedroom wall—the ones I can read sideways laying on my silk pillow.
Tell me, what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
and the other
When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky.
One laughs at my fears while the other challenges me to live.
Really live as opposed to laying low, dreaming smaller. Or perhaps most frightening of all–being okay with one day blurring into the next.
Not sure why the thought came now and not 15 or 20K ago. The thing is, it came and I’m here.
In the darkness, on my silk pillow, I’m now wide awake.
(In the dark and wide awake—a metaphor for life me thinks!)
I’m enchanted with the thought of living the next few thousand wide awake.
Free-falling into life, living this one wild and precious life like every day counts.
Because, my sweet friend, it does.
Thursday, July 8, 2021 I painted the piece shown here. Painting restores me and gives shape to that particular day. So does a phone conversation with a dear friend, time spent with family and a good meal with a glass of red wine. Life is delicious in all that it holds for us. Let us agree to fill them with joy from morning ’til night. Let us agree to make every day count.