I’ve been thinking a lot lately about writing. About writing more diligently (whatever that means . . . more regularly?). Thinking about writing with one specific focus, or continuing on with my wide-ranging kind of lens. After a little reflection, what feels most apropos is to be in the ebb & flow from how my typing all began.

‘EmBodyed Tides,’ the name, came to me in a dream. You can read more about its manifestation in this old post. My son’s name also arrived in my sleep (before I was even pregnant!). Dreams and their symbols are wildly interesting to me, though definitely not my forte. Writing may not be, either. And yet, here I am.

What’s it like to challenge your frame of reference (aka self-talk) when encountering something new? Or something of great value to you which you only end up comparing to something or someone else? Do you question it consistently? Do you take the leap and play?

Perhaps it ties to the new calendar year. A seasonal shift in our bones that tucks us into the blankets of cold or bare trees, and asks of us, “Can you listen to yourself? Can you be quiet and discover what’s underneath all of your assumptions?“

My words for 2020 came to me in a state of reflection, too. More like a half-sleep. Courage. Expansion. I have visions of possible new ventures and offerings, though fear stares at me closely. She keeps the gaze steady and unwavering even as I look away from time to time. It’s not all bad, I suppose. Fear has acronyms.

False Evidence Appearing Real.
Forget Everything And Run.
Face Everything And Rise.

Taking time to be playful isn’t actually a very strong suit for me. Maybe it’s the way it feels so vulnerable and intangible. I certainly think I have imagination; my sisters and I would pretend for hours (days?) on end. Although they each seem to have continued on in their own kind of play & adventure in the hobbies that remain: L knits, S writes, A creates cunning stationary. Mom is into pottery. Pops writes poetry.

I used to take photos in high school. Pulling out my old Nikon for an upcoming trip, I didn’t even remember how to open it to add in manual film. Do they even have darkrooms in schools any more?

I took art classes as well, although not in college. I played sports and today I practice and facilitate yoga. Which for my physical and mental spirit is playful. Though what about creativity?

Hoping that the majority of you also get to tap into your creativity with insight, interests, and intrigue. If we do not, who will? Who will share this kind of joy with our generations to come? Creation likely inhabits imagination, which sustains innovation. Being artsy and/or creative is not just about placing colored pencil to paper. It’s about fabricating a fuller world. Write on.