How is it that I’ve filled an entire notebook in less than a month but can’t figure out what to blog about? My writing has been cracked open in a way. The pen is flying across each blank page. The keyboard, though, is scaring me shitless!
I know what it’s about. Yesterday I went to a friend’s house to enjoy some alone time and it’s message was all around me. I strolled slowly through her yard, walking the wooden path. I took notice of everything around me and tuned in to what was trying to be said. I came in and wrote in my notebook: Beauty and Imperfection. The two went hand in hand here. Chipped wood, trunks covered in something- weeds?, overgrown ivy. All absolutely beautiful. I thought of the homes in certain subdivisions with their perfectly edged yards and fertilized green grass. And I thought that’s not me. I’ve tried living that neat little life and it’s not me.
I’m letting Carrie the Perfectionist die. It doesn’t happen overnight. I tried that. Lately, she creeps up in the night, “You should have this all under control,” she says. When morning comes, I recognize it was just her…no need to freak out. Writing about her now puts her back to rest. And slowly, slowly, I’ll return to the keyboard so that my beautiful imperfections will be revealed.