The Spark (First Post in a Series)

We did it; we began. (I’m not going to lie — I almost fainted when I pushed the “post” button for my first, official post, but I didn’t. Success!)

One of the reasons I created “Morning Passage” was to share some of the experiences that I have had since beginning this journey. I thought maybe someone might benefit from the resources I have used, the copious notes I have taken, and, yes, the “failures” I have had. Over the next few posts, I plan to write about some of these ideas. From there we will see where this leads. I imagine it becoming a place for me to continue to grow as a writer, creator, and self-discoverer; but I hope you will also allow me the privilege of knowing what you are doing along our journey together. I do not want to walk it alone; that is one of the reasons why I started this. Let me begin then with my story.

When I stopped homeschooling our children about a year-and-a-half ago, I became very lost. I thought I would have space in my days to intentionally discover what was next for me, but I was mistaken. Our oldest child was a senior in high school applying to dance colleges, our middle child was a sophomore attending a different high school, and our youngest was going to our neighborhood school — three children in three schools with three different schedules, not to mention a husband who worked long hours. I had scarcely any free time in my days. Endless hours in the car took a toll, and I became exhausted and frustrated, and was pretty much holding on by the very tip of my little pinky. I knew we needed yet another change in our family dynamic, and, for myself, I wanted something more. But what?

At about this time my husband had lunch with a good friend named James. When James asked how I was, Tommy explained what I was experiencing.

“Well, what does she like to do?” James asked.

“She likes to write. She studied it in school, she has worked on a few children’s books, and she recently took a song writing course.”

“OK,” James — a writer, an extremely good writer; in fact, an exceptional writer — replied. “Have her write me an article on what she is going to do to move forward and to find her next thing.”

I was very touched by the fact that James cared enough to give me an assignment; but, truthfully, while it did spark excitement in me (that should have been my first clue), I could not even imagine how I would fit writing into my life during that time.

Over the next few weeks, I started jotting down ideas for my assignment, and every once in a while I would actually work on it more formally. Soon the “article” took on its own life — something tantamount to the ramblings of a crazy lady. But it felt good to write again; to give myself permission to write. After all, I had an assignment to do, I told myself. (I had not yet accepted that I could write just for the sake of writing.)

What I noticed was that I would start to get excited here and there throughout my days with new ideas for my article, which by now had crossed-over to a comedic personal narrative of sorts. When I had a spare moment, I would run to my computer to jot down an idea, instead of mindlessly munching on tortilla chips while searching the internet about any number of trivial topics. Something was beginning to shift.

It took me several months to actually finish my assignment for James, and when I was done, I — quite hesitantly — emailed it to him. He called me the next day and very patiently and kindly walked me through the entire piece, giving me suggestions for revisions. Now remember, this was a rambling mess. If his comments had been a red marker, they would have dominated my pages. But his intent truly was to help me publish this, so I did what any good student would do and went back to the drawing board.

At first I really enjoyed the process. I saw clearly what James wanted me to do, and I had done similar revisions a million times back in my school days. But as I went on, I began avoiding my writing desk — losing the spark that had excited me — and I slowly returned to that feeling of stumbling through life.

I did not perceive the change right away; I just drifted back to the way things had been for so long. But one day, as I was passing by my desk, I noticed my tossed-aside, wayward assignment. I picked it up, took a deep breath, and said, “I don’t like working on you.” Then I dropped it in the trash.

It sounds so silly, but the relief of that action was immediate and liberating. I was okay with saying that I did not like that particular form of writing without condemning the entire act of writing. Since I had experienced that wonderful flow of energy as I wrote my original, rambling narrative, I knew I did not have to face the idea that maybe I was not a writer after all. The truth was I just did not enjoy a certain style of writing, and that was okay.

[I would just like to interject here that now I realize that it would have been okay if I had made the realization that I did not enjoy any form of writing. At that time, however, that may have been a sad and confusing realization to me.]

This is what I want for you, if you do not already have it — to find something that brings you that spark. Allow yourself to play with whatever it is, try it on, see how it feels, and decide if it fits who you are. If it does not fit, take it off and try something else. Do not worry about the outcome. We are in this experience for the process; for the enjoyment; for the search to find what brings us alive. There is no pressure here to produce. Just start thinking about different things that excite you. Maybe make a list of things that you enjoy doing, are curious about, or have always wanted to try. Think back to your childhood and some of the activities that you spent your time doing. What absorbed you? Do any of those still interest you? Check in with yourself — what is your heart saying when you think about each idea? Do any of them stir your blood and give you an excited, nervous, light-headed feeling? Those are the ideas worth your time.

Maybe at this point you just cannot think of anything. That’s okay. Walk away. Take some time. An idea will emerge; it will find you. Sometimes this takes time, and sometimes it’s not really something we can control. If you are a planner as I am, you may find this challenging. You may want to know what path to take, where it will lead you, and on what time frame. But maybe we can agree to allow this to be the one area of our lives where we give ourselves permission to be more free, more unrestrained, more spontaneous in order to explore without expectation.

You are ready for this. You may not believe it, but you are. If you are here, reading this, it is because you have already been questioning and longing and searching. Let’s find that spark — no matter how small — that will ignite the vital life energy that we all want to have flowing through our days.

If you feel comfortable sharing, I would love to know what it is that has come up for you.

Thank you for being here.