I found my favorite black writing pen in the drawer where I keep the coffee scoop and filters. I don’t know why I really needed the pen to write, because here I am on the computer (again). Before the weekend in November 2008 when I cam across Facebook and twitter, I wrote almost every day. That passion spewed out of me and inspiration overflowed. I seemed to have put a lid on it in exchange for the constant flicker of shiny objects on the web.
Everyday, between coaching calls, and dogs, and doodles… I find something interesting, new voices to consider listening to, someone captivating to follow or friend, and I’m amazed by their creativity… and then I realize I am ignoring mine. I’m IGNORING MINE. Yes, I’m shouting at myself.
Oh, I’m not ignoring the common creativity in me… it shows up in the red streak in my hair or the marker-covered-post-its all over the place, or in chuck taylors and pf flyers with business suits. I’m ignoring the deep-soulful-feeling-based-HOT-on-fire creative flame of my sacred self that is just waiting to be lit so that it can be launched in to EVERYWHERE.
I woke up to the song Firework, written by Mikkel S. Eriksen, Tor Erik Hermansen, Sandy Wilhelm, Ester Dean and sung by Katy Perry. Yes, laugh if you will at the pop candy that she is. Well, I decide today in my improper tense, that I like pop candy and that song is me. Here is a portion of the lyrics (and now I know why I needed my pen so badly) .
And so…today I write first, other stuff later. What would be possible, if for the next 40 days I wrote something, besides a status update? What if I took that I was quenching this creativity seriously? What if I UN*LEASHED it with reckless, beauty-full abandon? What if I opened up to the possibility I am always talking about with my clients?
Pause and really let that sink in, Allison. Let yourself get to the uncomfortable part, and then let it settle. You’ll be just fine. Even better than that, I’ll bet.
I’m anticipating FIREWORKS… grand finale style… and really, even more. Considering all this feels a little risky. I’d like to say I’m full of courage and the deal is done. Instead, I will allow the HOPS (hopeful optimistic practices) to begin (thanks Carolyn). Thank goodness for hops.