"I didn't get invited but I know where to go..." Date Night, Father John Misty
Let's swoon over FJM for a minute. Now, proceed.
I had a bit of an identity crisis over summer break. It happens. My very spirited child talks all the time, which sometimes gives the sensation of assault by words, so that at the end of the day I'm exhausted from doing nothing, and I've done nothing to stave off my laundry list of normal housework, much less the short list of work I attempt to accomplish daily in the pursuit of my larger goals.
The book I am writing sat untouched for weeks, and who knows what the heck my characters are doing now; they've probably solved most of their problems on their own and moved on with their lives. In which case more power to them. Insert shrugging picture of myself here. I won't even bring up the huge pile of untouched fabric. Actually, it looks like I am, so let's just say that romper I planned to make a month and a half ago is still just a few yards of fabric laying in the extra bedroom.
Of course, this is not an environment in which I thrive. I begin feeling very fight or flight, tending toward flight, flight being the search for what the hell am I doing with my life, when just three months before I was on a bike ride with Mary and told her I felt so good about where my life was going. Okay, so I'm not living in the moment when I feel frantic and anxious, and I'm fighting against the current. Let's acknowledge this. But the current is so damn strong sometimes, and it feels like it's pushing me under and I forget I can swim...
Well, in the midst of this tumultuous period, I held the situation out for another friend to flip through and examine, and he told me that people like me have to take risks. Damnit. Always with the risks.
Lately, I've been hungry for the confidence I see in some of my friends and peers, their surety. They are aware of their valuable unicorn awesomeness. I want more of that, more nonchalant self-belief. More, "I didn't get invited but I know where to go." More "I belong here, doing what I'm doing, and I'm damn good at it".
Part Two
"Practice and all is coming." -Sri Pattabhi Jois
Oh dear, I feel like I'm quoting hashtags, but it just isn't true. It's a quote from the father distiller of Ashtanga yoga, and lets discount his questionable personal history and look at this phrase.
My work is far from perfect. Maybe I'm the next Atwood or Kafka or Vonnegut or Hemingway or Garcia-Marquez, or maybe I'm not, perhaps I'm the next me, but I'm working hard in the gap between where I was and where I can be, pushing on toward that 10,000 hours to adeptness, honing my craft. I can be confident that I am building the house brick-on-brick-on-brick-on-brick, and someday I will be confident that I can add on the roof and windows and doors. Let's throw an English roll arm sofa in front of the fireplace to indulge my obsession. Now I need to stop worrying about the invitation, and follow the path to where I need to go.
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