I have been finding it harder of late to be inspired by...anything, really.
My dayplanner (2016 Moleskine Week to a Page with Red cover) is full. Particularly the week in August that reminds me I need to keep my thinline rainbow Sharpies out of reach of my daughter. She drew me a "design" across the entire week, leaving no room for my black pen appointments, meetings, work schedule, family plans, etc. Days that are planned out with good things, just a LOT of good things. And when I looked at it, even though it is swirls and hearts and patterns, it reflects more accurately how I feel about my schedule. It's beautiful, but a mess. And she made it a piece of artwork. Days connected by rainbow dashes and circles, stick figures with really big heads and tiny hands all in a row, and off in the upper right corner, what looks like a bunny riding a unicorn. Possibly eating a hot dog.
This morning while Knox and I were driving home from the grocery store where we grabbed foodstuffs for a spontaneous overnite at the cottage, we were listening to El Vy. With one hand steadying the bag of groceries in the passenger seat and one ear listening to Knox explain how scratch and sniff stickers work, the lyrics to the song Need a Friend made a straight shot to a dusty room in my gut that had been needing light to shine in.
I just need a friend to guard the door
I just need a couple minutes on the floor
I just need to talk to you for a second
I just need a break from the sound, cause it's killing me.
Maybe the way was paved by a simple text from my friend earlier this week asking if I kept a journal. She was sharing a new medium she found to chase down her thoughts daily and preserve them. And I remembered the feeling of putting pen to paper and letting my thoughts go. I have stacks of journals from my years in Colorado filled with nothing more then daily inspiration. Runs in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Vegan carrot pancakes at Sunrise Café. Beers and pool tables with a guy I knew could never love me. Kids with cancer who were stronger then I will ever be. Finding a purple flower. A quote from a random Bulgarian activist.
Just about the time my journals started to thin out is when my inspiration was coming from time spent with a guy who was asking me to hang out more. I kept writing about our early years together, but was letting days and eventually weeks go by without writing it down. Too busy living, I guess. At least that is what I wrote down in my journal.
Too often I tell myself that the girl who found inspiration so easily has been buried alive by daily life. That my life tumbling over itself from the moment I open my eyes (earlier then I want) and doesn't grow quiet until I put the last person to bed (takes longer then I hoped) is what prevents me from looking around for the random beauty. That if I just had large spaces of being alone I could find that appreciation for life which is no less amazing to me, just seems out of reach. My lack of time to myself is surely what keeps me from having my mind blown.
But that's not the truth, right? The loudest space can be peaceful when the people who are meant to be there are making the ruckus. I don't need to escape, I need to look around. I already invited the best person to come in and create a life with me. And we invited a shit ton of other folks in as well.
And when I tell myself that I can't breathe until I am alone again, I miss the inspiration that happens when my life and the people who share it ask a million things of me.How much of myself is up for grabs. All I need, every once in a while, is the door to close on the sound and my friend to sit on the floor with me for a minute. I need him to guard the door and let the wildness stay outside. To remind me that it started with us, this bizarre life that never made it the pages of a journal. Because it all changed when he invited me out for a beer.
(babe, I am inspired by YOU)