Inspiration
Articles to inspire authentic living on the topics of resilience, spirituality, and self-growth with touches of storytelling, depth, and humor.
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2022: Time To Unleash my Inner Child
Sometimes we have plans that can dissolve like sand in our hands in a second. 2021 has been a trying year in so many aspects. Experience has shown me that we always experience a year of constant challenges in our lives' cycles, followed by a time of appreciated growth. I don't know how we ended up with two years back-to-back of continuous blows. I guess I can only speak of myself, but I am exhausted. I have been exhausted for a while, numb, and at times hopeless.
When the plane goes down
I don’t remember when was the first time I had a dream, but I can assume that I was still a little girl. Up until this day, my dreams can be quite entertaining, to the point I sometimes wake up exhausted because I have long, energetic visions that seem as I got to relive in my sleep a Tarantino movie on a nightly basis. Other times, these oneiric experiences are nothing short than pieces of wisdom. I receive messages for others, process complex problems and even get to meet cool people and places I have never met before. I also get repetitive dreams and continuing dreams, complicated stories that are paused when I open my eyes to be continued later as if I had just pressed some kind of mental pause.
Months ago, I had one of those dreams whose wisdom was meant for a friend but up until today its moral still haunts me.
The place where all dreams come true
When I was fifteen I discovered that sometimes life showers us with gifts that might come in an unrecognizable wrapper.
I was a - maybe unusual - serious teenager. Great student, president of the Student Government, was already studying painting so I could become the artist I wanted to be. I was basically a good, responsible girl. I don’t mean it in an arrogant way because the truth is that I was so mature that I feel I never got to experience what I was suppose to live during the precious years of adolescence. That was actually my handicap.
Stargazing was one of my favorite pastimes those days. Every night I would stay for hours in the window with my binoculars learning the name of the constellations with the help of an Astronomy book my mom had bought. Soon after I started learning about the stories that originated the stars’ names. That is how my obsession with Greek Mythology started.
The Heroic Gardener
Nonno Mario was the first and one of the most important storytellers of my life. He taught me to play domino and chess and whenever he stayed for lunch or dinner I refused to eat so that we could stay at the table while he fed me long after everyone had left. It was our alone time. Afterwards, inevitable, came the stories.
Wishing upon a dandelion
It was a casual Spring afternoon. My son and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. He was wearing his Batman t-shirt because, what can I say? He likes super heroes.
Soon after, we started seeing many dandelions on the side of the road, a collection of yellow flowers growing everywhere. Occasionally he would grab some and placed them on a bag we were carrying for no other reason that to collect items. It didn’t take long for him to concentrate on grabbing dandelion seed heads, those delicate white globes of exposed seeds that had long been believed to contain the power of granting wishes.
My son, with his superhero shirt, started running holding a bunch of them in his hands, the passing breeze breaking each globe into tiny speckles of seeds that flew in the air. It looked magical, and my son’s laugh was the perfect soundtrack for the moment. Once he was left with only stems in his hands, we set to find more. Luckily for us, dandelions are stubborn weeds that grows everywhere.
Packing for a New Decade
I am not particularly superstitious but there is a tradition from my natal Venezuela that I continue to adapt every New Years’s Eve. It does not matter where I am, once the clock hits midnight and I hug family and friends - which inevitable always makes me cry happy tears - I gulp down twelve grapes, each representing a wish for the following year and sip some champagne. Right after comes the tradition I stick to with fierce determination, not because I strongly believe in its magic, but because I see it as a symbolism of telling the universe that I am ready for it. So, regardless of the weather, in the first minutes of the New Year I go out and do a small walk outside the door with a luggage to symbolize all the trips I want to take. I think I have only missed it one year, and coincidentally was my most “staycated” year ever. So just in case…
I was making plans for our New Year’s Eve celebration I started thinking about what I wanted for 2020. I do certainly want to travel, always. However, I found a symbolism on that tradition that made me think deeply on not only what I want but what I need to learn.
When the blaze comes
This morning, NPR News presented a segment about the first year anniversary of devastating wildfires in California. They presented the facts, talked about the eighty-five victims and interviewed a survivor whose house was completely floored by the fire.
The man was talking about how hard the whole process had been but that he was happy to report that one year later the foundation of the new house where the old one used to be was finished. He and his wife were replicating the house exactly as it was.
And that kept me thinking...
What do you want to be when you grow up?
What do you want to be when you grow up? I have to admit I always enjoyed that question. The thing is that I was a weird kid. I just knew from a very young age what I wanted to be. Since I was 4, I would always have an adult ask me “so, what do you want to be when you grow up?” and I would say in my serious 4 going-on-forty’s voice “I want to be a painter and a writer” And they would say “You are cute. Do you mean like a teacher, or a mom, an astronaut. “No, I want to be a painter and a writer.”
I knew it in my heart, the same way I also knew that there are things I really, really wanted but they were not in my destiny. Like ballet, for example.
Today I was driving when a memory hit me like lighting. I was probably a sophomore or junior in college and as every Sunday we stayed for hours at the dining table talking about our weeks, our lives, our dreams. At that moment I was expressing my life plan: what I was going to study, where, timing to reach my goals, how I was going to make a living, what I was going to do in order to sustain my creative endeavors, etc. I had such a determined plan and I was proud of myself, I felt I was on a roll.
Threading the path to our North Star
There are women whose dream is to have a shoe closet like the one Mr. Big built for Carry Bradshaw: the shoe displays, the lights, an universe of heels and colors and tons of accessories that are more decorative than functional. Although I would not oppose to a closet like that (as long as shoes are arranged by color), there are other places that provoque my soul to vibrate at a much higher frequency.
A bookstore and its sister, the old-book section at a library; an art supply store with tons of items to play with and create the mountain of work I will never get to actually produce. Lastly, and the strange thing is that this one does not connect with my career choices: a fabric store.
My heart always jumps when I see the rolls of fabric. As a kid in a candy store, the awe accumulates in my stomach and comes out in a sigh. Maybe it is that sense of not knowing where to start, the physical need to rejoice in the different textures that caress the tips of my fingers, or perhaps the sensation of getting drunk on color overload and creative patterns. My soul gets greedy, I want them all! So like in a labyrinth I get lost comparing all the textiles, imagining what I would do with each of them: beautiful gowns that I don’t have an occasion to wear, summer dresses, swimsuits, handbags, upholstery for that piece of junk I found at a tag sale.
Success is...
Like many other times in my life, lately I have been showered with messages about a single topic in books, conversations, and even videos on facebook. All that information has forced me to evaluate my definition of success. When do we know we have achieved something of relevance? When do we feel satisfied? When do we feel we are at the summit and are ready to pat ourselves on the back? After a lot of deliberation I have come to the conclusion that; at least for me; success has to hold all of these characteristics in order to earn its name:
Persistance
Sometimes I wonder if what I consider the most challenging part of my job is actually an obstacle shared by other artists and creative friends. Every time I sit in front of a blank canvas I have this weird, haunting feeling that I don't know what to do, as if I had never held a brush in my hand. Then I start painting, not sure how to approach the canvas, and suddenly I am making one decision after another until things start to take shape. Most of the time I think I am probably making the wrong decisions, and yet I keep going anyway; as if I was given a job where I am only an instrument and not a creator.
Dreams
Thinking today that every trip begins with a dream. As with most things in life, even dreaming takes practice. Unfortunately, the people that have to travel the longer distance to make their dreams a reality, are the ones that constant hits and tribulations have deplenished their ability to move forward. Instead of blaming them for not having the focus, the will, the discipline to achieve their goals, we should walk with them until their capacity to dream strenghtens. Every soul deserves to be saved from the catastrophe of a dreamless life.