Thursday, February 19, 2015

Wrangling the Restless

Blogworld, I have a confession to make. I have been letting my restless self get the best of me.

This past weekend, I went to Miami where I went dancing every night and flitted around the city visiting friends. I fell into my old ways, doing a million things at the same time and filling my hours to the brim with activities. I stayed up too late ever night but morning still found me working in the garden, pulling weeds from my food forest.

As I flip through my calendar, it is clear that the rest of the semester is more of the same: spring break in the mountains, a writing conference in the Midwest, camping adventures, birthdays and blessings. After April, summer looms like a blank slate, nearly four months of potential travels. My wanderlust has been in overdrive as I troll discount flight sites to see where the wind will take me. As someone once told me, I definitely don't let the grass grow beneath my feet.

Some may call this busyness but I call this life. I am beginning to accept this truth about myself: movement is my medicine. Who's to say that being on the move means not writing, reflecting, or honoring the artist within?

No one, really. I think that is an idea that I have created and internalized all by myself, the notion that a writer must be stagnant or padlocked to their desk.

 Stay, Carmella. You must stay at your desk and not move, a little voice inside me whispers. And there is truth in that, too. The writer must know how to glue their bum to chair sometimes, but it is just as important for this writer to go salsa dancing on a Friday night, or to fly to Central America spur of the moment to meet up with an old friend. In between the lunch dates and the salsa swings, you can always find me with my pen in hand, scribbling furiously in my notebook, my spirit on fire with the innate need to translate these experiences into art.

We are all different - our needs, desires, dreams, realities. Our writing processes are just as diverse. Rather than try to fight mine, I have resolved to accept it and work as best as I can given my reality.

It's a question of time and energy. Some people gather energy when they spend time by themselves. While I enjoy these moments too, where I really fill up is in my interactions with others. A day without human connection is a dark day for me.

So that's what I was doing back in Miami. Filling up my tank. Squeezing, dancing, hugging, walking, sharing, laughing, breaking bread, singing. Living.