Today I woke up and I felt that familiar urge to write. To get the words out. Spout the ideas that I am sure are so unique, that nobody has ever thought of even thinking them…but then I remembered that I am just a white girl living in Denver, Colorado in the fucking crazy year of 2018. And so, as it goes, I feel hopeful and defeated all at once.
I thought 2016 was crazy, and that 2017 was truly bizarre…but 2018 is taking the cake. I won’t dive into the political rhetoric surrounding the strangeness, but rather, I just want to explore the ramifications of our social climate for myself personally, for my children, and ultimately our global community. And this is where my urge to write comes into play, I guess. Some deeper need I have to organize all of my super cool thoughts/ideas/solutions into nice little compartmentalized chapters. But I rarely write. Oh, I write Facebook posts, emails, and love notes to my husband; but rarely do I sit down as I am now – and write.
My urge to tell stories is strong – but what are those stories? I don’t even know. It feels somewhat irresponsible to be dabbling in storytelling when I see humanity and the earth deteriorating before my eyes. And so, as it goes, the conversation with myself about creative pursuits begins and within 7.3 minutes, I have lost the urge to tell a story. I allow myself to be sidetracked and diminished – every time.
But something else has started percolating in my brain lately…there is a simple solution to all of the problems we have in the world. The answer is in a gazillion different song lyrics and poems, inspirational posters and even tattoos. It’s so stinking simple that we overlook it – we forget that IT is just good old fashioned love.
Love is the answer to just about every problem and I bet I could prove it by telling stories.
Stories are after all, what we base everything on…so, as it goes, I ask myself, “What if we changed the stories we tell ourselves?” What if the stories I told changed someone’s mind, or better yet, their hearts? What if by doing what I love, I brought love to other people?
Could it really be that in four paragraphs I have solved my own personal dilemma with writing? Could it really be that by just allowing love to be part of the narrative, I have reframed the entire scenario? I really do feel invigorated and excited to write now…right now! The first story I am going to write is about a girl who learns to listen to and love herself so that she could change the world.
What’s your story of love?