I've always been a dedicated and passionate reader. My connection to the characters and events in books and their authors has, at times, surpassed my connection to the more immediate world around me. As a child, peers mocked me as I read constantly-- at lunch, on the playground, on the bus, under my desk if the teacher's lesson did not hold my interest. Fortunately with my nose buried in another world I was blissfully unaware of the scorn. In that magical time of freedom, possibility, and ignorance of the judgement of others I fancied myself quite the writer and artist-- in fact, I outlined my future careers as a trifecta of A's: I would be a successful Actress and Artist in my youth, then as I aged become an Author, recounting the stories of my eccentric and interesting life.
This was how it was until the hyper-awareness of adolescence set in. As it tends to do, puberty and all its awkwardness struck with a force for which I was unprepared. Confidence, arrogance even, in my abilities gave way to supreme doubt and the desire to blend in. Where once I was eager to show off my creative endeavors, I withdrew deeply, harshly judging myself and what had come to seem silly projects and aspirations. I went so far as to destroy stories I had written and paintings I had completed (a practice not at all without precedent it seems) so embarrassed was I by their juvenile nature. Where before this phase the books I read inspired me to create my own, during, and for a long time after, they became imposing and untouchable monoliths. Each writer whose voice I treasured, every story in which I became invested, convinced me further that everything I had to say had already been said, and much more eloquently, by the masters I most admired.
This blog as I've mentioned is my attempt to maintain joy in the process- of living, mothering, and yes, finally, writing. I became a bit distracted yesterday (you'll notice there was no new post) as I got wrapped up in reading other blogs I like and researching some new ones. Old doubts and comparisons filled my head- this one looks prettier, this one is funnier, this one has 10,000 readers...
Fortunately, through the practice of meditation, I've learned, slowly, to step outside these habituated patterns of self-critical thinking. Mothering, as well, has given me the opportunity to think often about the practices and perspectives I want to model for my daughter. I thought about the way I will counsel her when she comes to me someday with the same self-doubt I was experiencing. Of course I will offer nothing but encouragement and the advice to let go of comparisons for the sake of the process of creating-- and I realized, if I want her to take me seriously (or better, to not have to go through that kind of self-doubt) I have to live what I speak. So after a day of inner conflict, re-inspired, re-committed, I am back and aim to continue on for the sake of the process once again...
oh yes, another blog from my sweet dear friend Lisa in Philadelphia...thought you might like it because she too is a crazy avid reader.
ReplyDeletelivingoutloudnow.blogspot.com
Love it.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad YOU'RE YOU! and You're blogging! Keep it up. I'm enjoying your beautiful posts :) xo
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