Revival
/Lending the space to create.
“I’ve been waiting for the words to collect
like rain water within me
until the bucket is full, and must spill
onto my page
but I’ve been checking too frequently
and rain has its own rhythm
it wants to collect without supervision
so I’ll leave it a while
and return when it’s full”
Returning to the page and I have found that my bucket, oh-oh-oh how it is full. It came tearing through on the eve of my twenty-fifth, a steady rainfall with no intention of letting up. I wanted to say so much. I wanted to tell everyone about the things I’d seen in the past 12 months alone — the way Halsey’s new album was stirring something poetic within me; how I moved through lines and around strangers in airports, wondering where each was going and where each had been; why the Northeasterner inside me was begging for colder weather lately; the moment I saw the ocean turn to glass from the window of an airplane in such a way I wound up standing on the sky.
Twenty-five filled in swiftly, but I didn’t mind. Twenty-five on 02/05 — there has to be something to that right? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a firm believer in the coincidental wonders of the universe. Whatever it means, I turned two-five on 02/05, and I like the way that is stringing itself together.
I usually walk into my year with a word and this year I chose revival. I knew I needed to dig back into my creativity, and though sometimes it’s best not to dig, in this case the digging was essential. I needed to re-root myself to the words. I was trying far too hard to be a creative, rather than just be creative.
Drop by Drop, this is how it begins
I was afraid to share too much, which in essence meant I was afraid to be honest in my writing. There was an incessant craving for something to change — a need to find the girl who memorizes the course of a year in words, and let her lead the way.
So, I dug. Dug deep. I found the pockets in my soul that needed filling. I lent them change, booked some flights, made a few calls and before I knew it, there was an abundance of golden hues rattling inside my head.
It feels good to find the stride in my voice again. The voice that can imagine what it’s like to walk on the surface of the sun or sketch the essential power of just being when you’re 40 feet beneath the waves, breathing water. What’s next? Who knows. Twenty-four had given so much so kindly, so I can only imagine the grace 25 has in store.
“I found the pockets in my soul that needed filling. I lent them change, booked some flights, made a few calls and before I knew it, there was an abundance of golden hues rattling inside my head. ”
If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that the revival began in the spaces of time when I allowed life to move to its own rhythm. Along the mountains of Virginia and New York, beyond the coastlines of Miami, and underneath the skylines of Chicago and Charlotte, I was living in the motion of the moments. I was awake, tuning in, paying attention. This is where the revival will continue to grow. Because sometimes you have to pull yourself off the grid for a little while. Find the grounds to let yourself start over and wander. Open the blinds, roll down the car windows and breathe it in deep. Let your bucket take its sweet time filling up. Drop by drop, this is how it begins. This is how you reset the wheel you are caught up on — and give in to giving yourself the room to create.
“Sometimes you have to pull yourself off the grid for a little while. Find the grounds to let yourself start over and wander. Open the blinds, roll down the car windows and breathe it in deep. Let your bucket take its sweet time filling up. Drop by drop, this is how it begins. This is how you reset the wheel you are caught up on — and give in to giving yourself the room to create. ”