This morning a friend showed me another person's words that fell on my heart and broke it. I spent the past week sorting out this part of me and that part of me and I wonder what part of me remains put together from the parts of me that lives fragmented. It's painful and beautiful. It's barren and pregnant. I move to and fro and I move without knowing because if I rest at one place trying to figure out where and what I'm moving towards, I'm afraid I'll stop and I won't have enough courage to hold on to a pen.
This past week I experienced quite a lot of things different from how I would experience a week at work. From conversations on machines and problems that affected how a person can remain productive throughout a day to thinking about a cafe's interior and what kind of food to serve and actually tasting it in an unexpected lunch treat. To three hours of exchanging thoughts on how a culinary experience can be engaging and creative.
This past week was all about trying to form something from a handwritten dream kept in an old journal forgotten. Her passion for cooking. Her passion for writing. His passion for typefaces. Her passion for furniture. Her passion for just seeing it all happen and being a part of it.
I feel lucky enough to just be involved. But this morning, these words that I read out loud to myself reminded me. I don't just want to be involved. I want to be one of them who wakes up to their passion and admit they are passionate about something and doing all they can to make it happen in their lives today.
I don't know how far I am from making it happen. All I know is that I make a weekly attempt to find the voice behind my words and make sure I recognize its rhythm. I don't know how long it will take until I find myself face to face with an opportunity that will make me unleash this desire to create and witness how beautiful things and moments are made. It feels like I've been waiting for a long time. It feels like I've only been on the sidelines for a long time. I've watched my life change shape every now and then and I've felt ripped apart and put back together all at the same time. And sometimes I'm not sure if I'm getting anywhere at all.
But I'll walk. I'll write. I'll believe.