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a ten year old's dream

03/09/2016

I, like what I offer to sell, am on a journey. I started my life over in the middle of it. It had been disorienting to say the least, to start a life over, find a direction, a purpose and a profession. It has taken time to be ready to offer my whole collection for sale, and it has taken some courage to decide to share my art. I've had some misstarts trying to pull it all together and while I would like to attribute that to misfortune, and perhaps there would be some truth to that, the real reason is simple: I didn’t believe in my own story. I had this little newspaper clipping that I kept with me, when my life was changing around me, quicker than I knew how to handle, that said: “It’s not your job to hold yourself perfect; it’s your job to be yourself and let your story write itself.”  Just having the compassion for myself to give myself permission not to be perfect, was a big accomplishment at the time. 

It wasn’t until this year I could move on to a different inspirational quote to hold on to, and let guide me, this time George Bernard Shaw: “Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” I couldn’t have even fully understood what he was saying, had I not already set about looking for myself out in the world, and experienced the disappointment of not “finding myself” out there where I was looking. Some times it isn’t until you have that humbling moment of admitting to yourself: “well, that didn’t work, now did it?”, that you realize you had better sort yourself out because only you have the answers to who you really are, what you really want, and the direction you want your journey to take.

 

Life just goes on with each new morning, even if you don’t have a set direction; it leads you on your journey without your consent. It’s a tremendous blessing in and of itself to just continue the journey at all and so easily taken for granted. I realize now, I had probably experienced what a lot of people do: to find yourself sort of stuck somewhere along that journey, living, doing, even really enjoying life, distracting oneself with activities and stuff, taking care of others, but still not exactly getting the very thing done that most needs doing: owning your unique story and writing it yourself instead of letting other people or circumstances write it for you. It has taken every minute of my life to get to a place where I finally believe in myself enough to believe I can create my own story, and have the courage to fail or succeed. 

 

I hope to fulfill my ten year old girl’s dream, the one that faded and faded a little with each passing year until it seemed like a distant memory instead of what it was: my truest voice. When I was ten I told my mother that I wanted to be a story teller. She asked me several times:"Don't you want to be a teacher or a nurse, or a secretary?" Yet I was resolute with my answer, and my mother just shook her head. I can't say that I had fulfilled that dream, really, until I began to create this new life for myself, telling stories with my art, researching my collection, becoming intrigued with the "stories" of my family and of the very things I am now selling. Necessity demands that I sell my collection, and a ten year old keeps whispering to me: "Remember being a story teller?"

 

 

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