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Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Churning
This is a tricky, winding business, writing. Like water itself, my work seems slippery-- continuously falling through my outspread hands. I sit down to write and something new comes out, and I am having a difficult time trying to find transitions to connect everything together.
I can't help but feel that I've reached a confluence in the river of my work, and I must choose which to follow. Imagine, to the left, a slow, snaking river backed by towering snow-capped mountains, flooded in sunshine-- both beautiful and familiar, poetic. On the right, lies a far more remote river with dark, churning rapids, dry and barren landscape, but the lure of the challenge in those waters is enticing-- you know at the end of that float, something hard and new will have happened. I feel as if right now, I've slammed my oars into the water and am rowing backwards, trying to keep both rivers in sight, straining not to choose one over the other for the fear of disappointment in the end.
My vision is to create a project that's outside of my comfort zone, that takes me through choppy water. But every time I near the mouth of the second river, I'm pulled back to the first-- to my poetic tendencies, and my emotional connection to this subject matter. Remedying this is where I am now. How do I brave these coursing waters?
Though this is a demanding dilemma to face, there's a certain wave of exhilaration in the choice; in knowing only one river can be ridden, and in choosing the harder trip. When we know failure is a possibility, we take risks to save our boat from turning over-- the question now is, will those risks pay off? Will I pop back up to the surface, or will my words be diluted, lost and muffled in the current? Will my work be effective?
My mind races in ten thousand different directions, trying to answer these questions, trying to chose, trying to plan and prepare. It's frustrating to never know what the next turn will hold, to be blind at the bend of the river. I'm still fighting the water, struggling, pulling against her path.
It's time to surrender to natural movement, and enjoy the ride.
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