It’s been several weeks since I last posted and to be honest, my inspiration has been lacking. With a lot going on personally and emotionally, it’s been challenging to sit down and compose a blog post that not only makes sense, but is readable. That being said, I thought I would share something that recently happened to me the other night as I settled into my bed. It wasn’t anything shocking or strange, but still something I would at least consider poignant (if to no one else, for me, personally).
On Wednesday night, shortly after about 10pm or so, I made my way upstairs to my room to prepare for bed. It was as typical as it usually is, with my nighttime routine of washing my face, applying face medicine, and plugging in my cell phone to charge for the night and then settling into bed. Often, if I can, I will read the current library book I have for a short time before I feel sleep on the horizon. However, on Wednesday night, my mind felt cluttered and a need for release. Looking around my room for paper, there was nothing to be found and feeling lazy, I crept outside my room, and grabbed a small piece of printer paper, needing something to release the thoughts circulating through my mind. You might be wondering why I simply didn’t reach for my laptop (and other than it was downstairs at the time), on occasion when I become inspired to write about something truly personal to me, handwriting on a traditional, plain sheet of paper is often my best bet. Sometimes, when handwriting, I feel like I suddenly become more in control and able to designate everything I write. There is no need for backspace, spell check, or the tempting allure of the internet. It is solely the paper, pen or other writing utensil and my thoughts. It is freeing to me, in a sense.
So with the blank sheet of printer paper on top of my comforter on my lap and my pen at hand, I began to write. Unreservedly, the words began to flow from my mind and heart. Before I knew it, the words began to form that of a poem, something that really hasn’t resulted in several years, as I felt devoid of inspiration and a muse. This particular night though, for some reason, the words released like a river from my mind, quickly filling the paper. I was suddenly filled with emotions that had been building inside of me for weeks, or even months, needing a release. It was a reminder to me of the importance of keeping sheets of paper, or a notebook by my bedside, as I previously used to do, so I could easily write whenever the inspiration happened to spark.
The next several weeks is slated to bring a host of changes and challenges to my life, which has remained fairly stagnant this past year. These changes are scary and daunting and lead me into the unknown. I suppose in a way it is comforting to know that I am in control of these choices and the choices I make are ones which can be changed, no matter if they are difficult or not. Nowadays, I try to operate under the belief and quote, “Success isn’t final and failure is not fatal.” I really do believe this to be true. In other words, the way I interpret this quote is, no matter what we have successfully achieved, there is no guarantee it will last, or if it will happen again, though at the same time, when we do not meet our expectations or do something in the way it should have been done, there is still a chance to get it right and experience triumph.
I also spotted a quote while browsing around a store called The Fresh Market, which I took a photo of and shared it on Twitter: “Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.” I love those words and find them to be true. When life gets hard, I try to remind myself of this and realize that the self-defeating thoughts and feelings in my head do not have overtake my goals and dreams.
I can choose bravery and courage and so can you.