Living the Dream

When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?

When I was five, I wanted to be a writer. I could barely write, but I made up stories and songs. When I was either five or six years old, my best friend’s mom – Linda – gave me a journal. It was a cabbage patch journal. The pages were colorful with a yellow background and darker green lines to write on. I have the worst memory most of the time but I can picture my childish scrawling on the pages. The oversized letters of mixed upper and lower cases.

For anyone that has had much interaction with me can attest that my memory is not very good but I think that is because those are memories of my addled brain. The memory of that journal is not in my brain – it is sealed I’m my heart. It was the first fluttering I can remember – the stirring of my true soul.

The gift

One day, my friend’s mom came up to me with a present. I don’t remember if it was a random gift or a birthday, but she handed me a small cabbage patch kids book. I opened it up and the pages were blank. She said “I bought you this book to write your songs and stories. You have so many stories, you need to learn to write them down to be a writer someday.”

This is how I remember it. I felt nervous to write in the book because it wasn’t like a piece of paper. It had a hard cover and what I wrote would be important – it would last – and it could be read by others. I was always afraid to have anyone read stuff I wrote. I liked to write but only because I wanted to remember the words just right or so I could have the story again – not for other people.

How could she have known? Linda knew then what took me so much longer to learn – I wanted to be a writer one day. I loved that little book and carried it around often. Funny though – I think I only wrote on about 8 pages or so. I remember writing two songs that I had to sing while I wrote to get the words write. One was a love song I wrote and I didn’t want anyone to read it because I thought they would laugh at a little kid writing about grown up emotions – but that is what the music of the day was about and I would make sure no one was around when I wrote it.

I also wanted to be a teacher but that wasn’t until later – maybe about 9 or 10 years old, I read “Little Women.” I remember reading that book and falling so deeply in love with both Jo, the main character and Louisa May Alcott, the author of the book. I wanted to be a writer like Louisa and I wanted to be a teacher like Jo. They were both rebels by profession because of the time they lived. I’m still in love with this book.

Today

The cool thing is – today I am a teacher, a writer, and so much more. I have learned through so much research and so very well chosen mentors that I can be what I want. I appreciated art but felt my skills and patience lacking. My art was not exactly artist status, and so I just started making art anyway. And you know what? It started getting better and I discovered Wabi-Sabi – the idea of imperfection and incompleteness and realized I’m a wabi-sabi artist (and that’s not just okay – it’s freaking awesome!)

I have achieved and surpassed what I thought was a stupid and unattainable dream – to be a writer. I may not have made any money in my writing, but I’m a writer.

It’s amazing to revisit this memory and the feelings that went with it. The crazy part is the recognition of who I was then and who I am still today. It’s amazing that we all have something in our soul that calls to us from the age of 5 and all the way through life. I can’t imagine NOT teaching, or writing, or creating. It is my soul – not in my soul – it is my essence. Im so happy and proud that I recognize my self and though I may get scattered and a bit seemingly lost – I am true to who I am – who I have always been – and who I always will be.