I typically write how I speak and therefore only have some trepidation in simply hitting "Publish" after transcribing my last meal. I took me a while to put myself out there in that way, which may seem strange or even ridiculous, but I've lived most of my life in fear of the unknown and of my own criticism. Through a series of events since turning 27 I've delved deeper into my form of self-expression, writing. I believe art is an act of courage and although what I'm writing may not seem like art to some, I feel a modicum of anxiety each time I release my words, and so maybe there is a courageous person hidden somewhere. Sarcasm and humor predicates almost all conversations and experiences. It bleeds into my writing. I simply cannot help it. Deep down, there is a sweet, vulnerable woman who is hungry for life experiences and wants to love. Perhaps it's easy to express that love for food. It has only ever loved me back, but in all sincerity it's those I choose to share a table with that I want to love, outwardly. Behind the tough exterior and facetious defense lies a human being open to change, who yearns to let go, nut up, stop getting in their own way and welcome people and experiences into their life.
I've transitioned from first to third person, clearly in an act of defensiveness. I'm back. So there it is. I'm strong and smart and humorous and hungry. Mainly, I'm just a woman with 2.7 decades on Earth and a voracious need for self-acceptance. Absorbing art and sustenance is not enough. I must heed the advice I pass on to my yoga students, everything I need is already within me. I'm slowly beginning to bring a sincere, inner YES to whatever is and if I do not like it, I must be proactive in changing it or simply accept it as it is.
Negative patterns have created a fear of failure, leading to safe decisions and built-up fortresses. Starting this blog was a step in the right direction. I make zero dollars and get very little feedback but I love it. I cannot paint, draw, sculpt, or play an instrument, but I feel strong when doing this, in expressing what I love in my voice, in what I feel is a creative way and using this form to make others feel special. If I've written for you, or to you, similar to sharing food with you, then you're alright with me. Thank you for being in my life and thank you for reading.
This wordy glimpse into the state of my evolution as it stands today is for me to let this burden of self-deprecation go. I occasionally write poetry, or discuss serious topics beyond the culinary variety and I'm utilizing this platform to be brave, to bring the artist within out, for better or worse. In that light, I'd like to share a poem I wrote the other night. It was after a particularly interesting and insightful day. I'm a bit of a thinker and I feel I'm blossoming into a doer, maybe even an artist.
Thank you, again. If you relate to being your own worst critic and getting in your own way, branch out today. Do something that excites/scares you; the relief in doing brings a rush of bliss inside. My aim and hope for myself and others is to be as fearless within as I am without. I'll try lamb brain and jump out of an airplane but I can't let anyone read a fricken poem? How much sense does that make? As if ridicule ever killed someone. Am I right, people? Don't let me or you get away with cowardess, especially when the sacrifice is personal happiness and peace. You deserve it. So do I. Peace, love, laughs and hugs.
Old Soul in a New World
Nostalgic for a time I never knew Never here Or there Pleading to belong
Longing for light A breakthrough An opening Needing to feel alive
Hopeful but there’s doubt Reckless confusion abound Maybe I’ll find my place The answer will reveal itself
I question worthiness Contradictory needs for validation The path is slowed, possibly destroyed Reversed if the truth is found
Roots provide the way And that route is knowing Believing, thinking, never enough Living in timelessness, loving beyond the rest