I was out on my walk this morning, struggling a bit after consuming two double bourbons last night, but set to right after a slug of coffee from my local favorite cafe in my neighborhood. While putting one foot in front of the other in succession without stumbling, my mind began to drift a bit, as it tends to once I set my body into a rhythmic motion. In the downpour (Oregon snow, I’m calling it), I started to wonder about the state of things in my life, especially creatively.
The truth is, I haven’t written anything of significance in a while now. I’ve been caught up/bogged down with work and the cycle of my schedule, that I haven’t allowed myself to sit at my keyboard and do much more than journaling (yes, just like this). I have been centered on getting up, getting dressed, getting to work, getting through my shift, getting home, getting some food, getting to bed. All this arriving, movement, and focus on the next step has limited my insights into the moment of now, the here, and the present, which is where most of my writing actually comes from. It’s true, though, I’ve written a lot in the past- and future-tenses, but it’s always seemed to come up short. Instead, as my life has begun to teach me, my words are a bit stronger when I write as a snapshot, rather than casting my narrative behind or before me.
It’s with this in mind that I’m looking towards our trip to Hawaii for some moments of pause and to catch up with myself. In just over a week, Ray and I will be boarding a plane for eight days in Oahu. It’s my work vacation, plus a few extra days that I’ve finagled with my schedule, and it’s time off with him as well. Our plans include parking our asses on the beach, swimming in the Pacific ocean when we feel like it, and taking a few hikes, as well as a few car trips around the island. I have nothing else on my agenda, nothing demanded of me, no pressures. Much like the adventures he and I shared over the summer, when I could take out my journal and capture some of my momental thoughts and ideas, I plan on being very present, and very accounted for, each day that we are away. I need this. I need to take stock, reassess, and allow myself to just enjoy a few days of being alive without constraint or a pull in one direction or the other. Ray, for similar reasons, is going to do just the same.
I can feel my creative self wilting a bit. I can feel my vision becoming more tunneled, and a lot more jaded as of late. It’s as if I’m calcifying slowly, and I need to pour more water, more fluid, back into my world so as to keep myself limber and flexible enough to shape a thought, expression, or idea into something that matters and has purpose.
I realize that this is me, pinning my life on a future thing, which goes against everything I have come to understand about how I live my life where I’ve gone wrong in the past. I will be spending the holidays with a man whom I truly love and am proud to call my companion, and I hope to be as present in the upcoming days as possible. I’m sure, together, he and I will daydream about the pending escape from this mundanity, though, and for that, I am already thankful.