“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” Henry David Thoreau
This morning I woke up and made a pot of coffee, turned Pandora on my favorite jazz station, curled up on the couch with my little dog, and a great book. The thought crossed my mind "wouldn't it be nice to just sit here all day?" Lexi stretched and yawned and cuddled in a little closer as if in perfect agreement with me.
My cup of coffee eventually became empty, and when I looked up from my book I noticed that the sun was skittering across the living room floor, and the leaves outside were glowing in all their Autumn glory. Another thought crossed my mind... "I should get up and go enjoy this beautiful day"... but the couch was so comfy... but then I thought "hmm... I might find more to write about if I go have an adventure" and as if Lexi read my mind, she leaped off the couch and started chasing her tail.
To some, the word "Adventure" conjures up grand images of death defying feats such as sky diving, scaling rock cliffs, or traveling at break neck speeds. Not me. Adventure is my word for going outside with the intention of exploring my surroundings around me with the curiosity of a child. That's all. Sometimes, the Adventures of Lexi and Cilly are as simple as walking the path behind my apartment down to Otter Ponds. Sometimes it's sitting out on the porch watching the chickens. Sometimes it's taking the kayak out for a little paddle around the lake. Whatever Lexi and I end up doing, it's more of an exploration and treasure hunt than a quest to actually "get somewhere"..
Today we ended up at my parents farm. Lexi played with the customer's kids who picked out their pumpkins that they would undoubtedly take home and carve into jack-o-lanterns. Some will end up with smiling faces, some with scary faces. One little boy wanted to get the biggest pumpkin in the patch, and I do believe he succeeded when he pulled his prize up in a wagon, tugging and toiling, and had my father lift his find up onto the scale, where it tipped at 31 pounds. I joked that Lexi weighs just 31 pounds, so he got himself a Lexi-o-Lantern. Lexi seemed very pleased with that idea because she did zoomies around the barn yard to celebrate.
Dad and I took a short walk out back where he pointed out some work he had done, and we talked about haying, his neighbors, deer, geese, and whatever else seemed to come to mind. With an "ayah, I'll be seein' ya"... we walked in opposite directions - he towards the piece of equipment he needed to get greased up and ready for winter, and me towards my car, whistling for Lexi who came springing up from her job of chasing the turkeys out of the corn field.
The rest of today's adventures involved running some errands. It's always an adventure navigating the grocery mart on a Sunday. Once home, Lexi and I ate some supper, cooked up the fresh squash we got from the farm, and enjoyed each bite. There is nothing like farm fresh food... and perhaps we have to eat the garbage we eat day in and day out to realize that food grown from soil and sunshine is far superior gifted from the Universe Herself. Once I cleared my plate, I sat back down with a head full of ideas I wanted to make sure I got down on "paper" before I lost them. As I was typing, I had a "Carrie Bradshaw" moment. OK, so I am not a tall, thin blonde living in New York City writing a relationship article for the New York Times, but I finally felt like I was a writer. I went, I saw, I wrote.
When I first met my boyfriend (who is a DJ who hosts karaoke shows), I said "I can't sing"... he said "sure you can - you just might not sing well!" Deep down, I always wanted to sing karaoke, but fear held me back... What if I sound horrible? What if they laugh at me? What if I make a fool out of myself? What if I clear the bar? Other singers would get up there, belt out a tune.. some were good, some eh, not so good.. but they ALL seemed to be having fun, whether they sounded "good" or not. A couple of beers (liquid courage) and coaxing from the man I love, I was up on the stage belting out a rendition of "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics with all I had. The ten people in the bar applauded and I was a star. Now, I can actually say I CAN sing (badly, but with gusto!)
Deep down, since I was a little girl reading "Little House on the Prairie" by Laura Ingalls, I wanted to be a writer. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that I am not a writer. Maybe it was my horrendous grades in English class and my incorrigible misuse of grammar. Maybe it was because my mother read my journals when I was a teenager and I was embarrassed because I knew my ramblings about boys, crushes and teen spirit was now "out there"... whatever it was, where ever it came from, it ran deep.
A friend of mine paid me an amazing complement today on Facebook after reading my blog post. She wrote "You are a wonderful writer." She made my day! It wasn't the "wonderful" part of her compliment that made me beam... it was the fact that she called me a writer! Me? A writer? I can't write!? Oh wait... yes I CAN. I just might not write WELL. (and my friend blew that theory to hell because she just called me not just a writer, but a WONDERFUL writer!) It wasn't until she wrote those words of encouragement to me, that it dawned on me..... I AM a writer.
Just like my singing, I CAN sing (I just might clear a room) and I CAN write (just no one may read it)... So what?! As Dr. Wayne Dyer said "When you dance, your purpose is not to get to a certain place on the floor. It's to enjoy each step along the way." So here I am, living my adventures, singing my songs, and writing about them all... because I can.