god made me funky
Between listening to Elizabeth Gilbert speak at the Southbank Centre on Friday and meeting a dozen like minded bloggers at this magnificent Photohunt on Saturday, it’s been both difficult and tempting to ignore the call of creativity. Difficult because who can resist such inspiration? Tempting because of the potential overwhelming disappointment of starting something and never actually finishing it… again.
The past couple years have seen me digging through myself. It’s been quite a process– I’m damn well near to China. If I could sum up all the conversations I’ve had, and if you could read below the surface of said conversations, they would sound something like this:
“I’m hurting. I’m lost. Please can you take my pain away and fix it. Please can you validate it so that I can blame someone else for it, so that I don’t have to go through it, so that I don’t have to work at it.”
I once read in an interview somewhere: “There’s only so much time you can spend digging through yourself before you become insular.” Wallowing has its place but as anyone who is anyone knows, there comes a time when you have to shit or get off the pot.
But the thing is, I’m such a good wallower. What will I talk about if I can’t wallow in my emotional landscape?
Walking in the park this morning, an entirely different landscape emerged. I noticed for the first time in a long time that there is a big world out there. A world far more vast that the small confines of my head – a cage without a gatekeeper. I want to get lost in that world again. But in order to do that, I need to get out of my own way and get over myself. And I say this with the kindest intent. I’m all for deep explorations of the self but sometimes you have to come back up to the surface where the light is.
So God made me funky. Big deal. Aren’t we all?