This quote popped up in my feed today, a gentle gift floating in on the final day of my 30-week writing challenge:
The answer to all writing, to any career for that matter, is love. -Ray Bradbury
Mr. Bradbury seemed to mean love for work, but it resonates with me as love in work: the love that sprouts from broken cracks & crevices and lifts doubt’s chin to the sky.
For if love does not grow in work, then what is work? And if love does not grow from words, then what are words?
Today my heart is full.
Last night, we returned home from ten weeks on the road screening Phoenix, Oregon in 60 cities to 60 audiences across the country.
And with this blog post, I complete my 30-week writing challenge.
Although promised last week, the tour recap with learnings, final numbers and next steps is still in the works. I plan to continue documenting the release, but over the next two weeks, guest bloggers Kim Piper (Executive Producer, Theatrical Booker) and Flannery Lundgren (our 13 year old daughter) will share their tour experiences.
Over thirty weeks, writing has become more comfortable, easier, less scary. Yet it is rarely peaceful. And maybe it should never be.
I love thoughts. Not words.
Words are not trusted translators.
Yet they have been assigned to carry the weight of the world. And they disperse responsibility to anyone who chooses to deploy their fickle form.
As we left the RV last night and walked into our “huge” condo, Gary and I stared, not able to make sense of all our stuff and why we ever needed it.
I hope I remember this feeling.
Because in the past, I seem to remember needing more. More house, more yard, more gadgets, more bathrooms, more bedrooms, more stuff.
Even our car, cloaked in dents, scrapes and broken locks, is again loved — and deemed a smooth-and-quiet ride.
I’m still too close to the tour to tell you what I’ve learned. But maybe it is partly this… to seek simplicity, a gently focused goal, and gratitude.
If only I can remember…
I will dream of a smaller house with cramped quarters and more time for vacations with those I love.
I will dream of less stuff.
I will spend the next few months clearing and tossing.
Instead of retreating to our own private spaces, we will stick close.
I’ll take one thing at a time and live in the moment — like we did when looking for a campsite, finding parking, arriving at the theater, greeting guests, answering the same questions night after night, selling merch, and retreating to the bus, each introvert in our own solo quadrant separated by sacred walls of air. Silent, at peace, together.
an eternity squished in an rv
galavanting across the country
and now it’s over
and our daughter started 8th grade today
and a young colleague died last week…
and my love and i,
we are earning wrinkles
and yesterday’s moments
and all we have left
and new moments we create