I dream that time
travel or some type of supernatural powers or pure magic allow my grandmothers
and I to be present together when we are all in our forties. We wallow and weep, commiserate and
celebrate. Imagining the conversations the three of us could have I’m certain the collective experience, spirituality, wit, grit
and wisdom would surely light a world on fire.
These ladies both
possessed the power to brighten up a whole room with their fiery personalities,
although they expressed them quite differently.
My maternal grandmother was fierce, some might say a little brash; hardened
from a life lived raising her young daughter on her own while residing with her
mother on Fletcher Street in Chicago during the late forties and fifties. She worked in a man’s world when women didn’t, in the melting pot of the city, taking
public transportation to the loop every day; an experience I’d bet fed her old world prejudices, as well as fueled her vim
and vigor. She retained an inviting, easy sense of humor bred in mischief,
making me believe she was that girlfriend daring you to step out of your
comfort zone into wild, reckless, iniquitous fun.
I’m quite sure my paternal grandmother had no idea what to do
with her. Equally fervent, ardent and
grounded in her views, she brought irrevocable, unequivocal faith to the
equation. She possessed a kind, earnest authenticity and rawness, almost more than my teenaged self could bear. She had
a way of clasping your hand, looking deeply into your eyes when she spoke to
you, as if penetrating straight to your soul.
I think it scared me; I didn’t know who was inside me at the time. How
could she be so confident I was all goodness, blindly believing in the tangled
mess that was me?
Maybe she just
knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what’s inside all of us. Those amazing gifts we’re born with, stored in the exquisite vessel that is our
bodies and minds, waiting for us to unearth them when we finally catch that
scintilla of light to be broken open into our full sparkle.
I decide to live
the life I imagine. This doesn’t mean a list of prescriptive goals with boxes to check in the
New Year, it means a way of being, taking infinite forms. I want to place myself into the hands of
another, in all the diverse, unexpected and beautiful ways this can be: With people I’ll
never know, holding my art in their hands as they turn the pages of my
sketchbook, or savor my words in published hardcover. In relationships with the people I encounter every day, from those waiting to be known in the elevator to that one
individual I choose to know deeply, intimately, exclusively.
I’ve spent the past year windward to fear, my face in the storm
for causes I’m not necessarily passionate about, for
someone else’s dreams.
I want to channel all I’ve learned about facing fear into chasing
my own dreams and desires.
Life is a cache of
glittering, delightful connections to be made in the present moment, wherever
you are, with the power to take you exactly where you want to go. I want to be brave enough to make them. I want to open
my treasure chest and brighten up a whole room. Are you in it with me?
This is my 200th blog post. In 2014 I plan to catalogue them, to begin
organizing them for print. Which are your favorites and how have they inspired
you?
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