Confidence and persistence

As I scrape away the layers from my old paintings that I’d locked deep within the closet of my heart, the dry and damaged acrylics flake off and weightlessly dance to the floor. The canvases reveal bits and parts of an abstract love that awakens lost and vulnerable memories I’d continuously covered and avoided with new creations.

I’m finally ready to keep peeling away these past distorted fantasies and greet the future with a fresh paintbrush that’ll manifest a new love that’s here to stay. It’ll be hung on an empty wall, waiting to be viewed with awe, once life naturally progresses with new and different experiences that paint my life with colourful memories.

I want to remember a life with fleeting regrets, and as I pull out a blank canvas, I acknowledge that this too may be painted over during a process of inevitable grief until I’m once again ready to chip away at the pain and start fresh. For now, though, I express myself with confidence and a persistence that moves as freely as a flexible paintbrush and as sharply as the drawing of meticulous lines with a pencil that never dulls.

Let my mind be blown with creativity.

Graceful motivation

I live each day with the intention of jumping onto the most direct route towards instant gratification and an embodiment of fast-paced productivity and growth. I’m beginning to find mastery in doing so without stress or pressure, and what I once fought so hard to accomplish, I now have committed to with a graceful and easy motivation. A motivation that brings structure to my life and an accountability that’s holding me tightly in a present place of peace and satisfaction that I want to hold onto so badly.

I don’t want to disappoint. I don’t want to lose everything, feel failure, and once again start my life all over from a place of emptiness and loss. I have hopes and desires, and I’ll act with caution as I live each day moving closer to dreams that I won’t allow to crumble to the ground.

I’ve had past dreams of writing a novel or many, and could never commit to focusing on such a lengthy story that made sense and came full circle. I couldn’t find the patience to do so, and so my dreams have shifted to a more realistic form of creatively expressing myself through writing. As I quickly jot my reflections down each day, I receive the instant gratification I seek. I learn something new. I complete something. It’s fun and rewarding. But I still want to be an author of some form of book or many.

So I write.

Bookshelves, empty and full

The remodel of my home is coming to an end, as the once-weak foundation has been torn to the ground and rebuilt into a sturdy and stable structure, where I find comfort in my favourite room. Here, I feed a fire that keeps me warm and cozy. The smoke rises into a chimney that shoots high into a sky that fills with contained clouds of dreams. These then disperse and disappear into open, clean air that clears my words and worries.

I sip on hot tea that steams floral smells of blooming hopes into the safety of the enclosed room, which is filled with unread books that I let sit and build with dust. Some shelves remain open.

The television sings to my inviting ears, and my computer shows words unfolding into reflections of a soul that sits behind penetrating eyes. My fingers feel a keyboard that mindlessly clicks to the rhythm of a free heart. My heart, in its thoughtless vomit of words, finds Passion in a creative outlet that has been transferred from the secrets of diaries containing scribbles of childhood dramas and doodles of initialed hearts. I find a youthful and carefree method of expression as I continue to write.

I look to the bookshelves, where lost memories reside inside ends that keep them tightly pushed together in their masses, and do not yet feel it’s time to return to the past. I’ll wait for the library to be complete. I’ll wait for the stories to choose when to unfold and open to pages that are ripped and burnt, as well as clean and crisp. I’ll wait to climb the ladder to the top shelf, where I’ll eventually read and learn the dictionaries of languages I never understood. I will patiently wait.

I will find the words.

Embrace your unique passions

If we have passion and a dream of being a ballerina, yet it’s not within our gifts or talents to be so, we must accept that our fantasy of finding stardom on a stage full of grace, beauty and flexibility will still be felt and shared through the emotions inspired.

Let those who do possess the talents gifted to them in their lucky destiny of limber dance share their passionate souls, and bend in gratitude to the desire of becoming a small part of the experience. Let yourself witness a moving performance from the audience, even though the light that shines within the theatre isn’t falling on you.

I must surrender to my fight of becoming the best at everything I do, just because maybe I can. I must stop fighting my true passions, gifts and talents that are finding me with an ease that allows for a stress-free and fulfilling life. I must remove the pads wrapped around my bruised and blistered feet that once sprinted away from my true passion for creativity, towards the high expectations of myself and my belief that I should be scoring in life because I could. My feet are tired.

Let my feet bruise and blister in fashionable shoes that briskly walk me towards my destiny and passions. Let me kick up the puddles and carelessly dirty the materials of life. Let me wash away life’s worries by surrendering to freedom that, in my blind avoidance, has been right in front of me all along. Let me paint my heart in colourful words.

Let me speak to my passions.

Let go and dig deeper

I generally write from an abstract place, in hopes of sharing a message that may differ for each reader, according to what may be pertinent for them at that point in their life. By drawing from personal experience in a way that welcomes each and every person to possibly relate their own journey or current situation, I find reward and growth when learning of a new and different perspective—a perspective I didn’t write from, yet was seen by another. That’s always a surprise that fuels my inspiration to keep typing.

I seek connections that result in a conversation entailing just one original viewpoint or idea that inspires my creativity, ignites passion and encompasses a perspective that my mind is eager to retain and my communication is eager to pass on. If I could walk away from hearing a story or perspective where something, even so slight and seemingly unimportant, sticks in my mind, my time would never be wasted. I have no shame in hearing what I want to hear, as long as it resonates with my values and brings fascination and growth to my undying curiosity.

Each day, I Dig Deeper into reflecting upon my life and others. I process my history and I prepare for the future while remaining heavily in the present. I want to gain wisdom and remain open to all perspectives. I want to maintain clarity and confidence in my beliefs while staying objective and sensitive to different viewpoints. I want to understand that not everyone has found freedom from their fears. I want to be of service and listen to the stories of hopelessness with the desire to help free these imprisoned souls.

So many have remained blind to the idea and possibility that by surrendering our fears and having an understanding that it’s not about us, what’s right or wrong, what’s better or what’s best—and that it is, in fact, about opening our minds and releasing our vulnerability—we may receive the gift of a belief greater than ourselves. We may let go and dig deeper.

We may cry.

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images: Depositphotos

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