"You can be anything you want to be." These words are the daily cereal fed to us through our elementary days. Our untainted and eagerly accepting innocent minds enable us to believe we can in fact be a firefighter, doctor and president, even all at the same time. And then we wake up in the after days of college, deliriously meandering through big life decisions, hoping to land in a productive and useful life field. We shoot our application into a thousand different black holes meanwhile holding out for that connection between Uncle Bob's neighbor's ex-co worker, who just might get us a position somewhere on target with our aim. Between the resume tweaks and daily self-confidence boosting rituals, we craft elaborate heart and leaf-shaped designs into overpriced lattes and pass out free smiles to men and women in business suits for $8.00 an hour, all the while believing we are on our way to realizing our dreams. But somehow your latte art just keeps improving, you're just-above minimum wage pay has increased by only .50 cents and you only seem further from tasting the nearness of your dreams. At some point, as summer turns to fall and fall turns to winter in just a nights sleep, time no longer seems to be on your side. And, if you are like me, you wonder why you have allowed circumstances to dictate your life. Lately, I have been asked, "If you could do anything with your life, without thinking about logistics, what immediately comes to your mind?" 'A writer,' I would say. More specifically 'a travel writer,' even more specifically, 'I want to be the next Anthony Bourdain,' I would say when feeling extra bold. "So what is stopping you?" They would say. These words have challenged and haunted me in the best way possible. What is stopping me? What. Is. Stopping. Me? And then I realized, the title is stopping me. No one has told me I am a writer, no one has paid me to do the writing I have wanted to do. No one has said, "Okay Katie, you assignment is to cover this beat." I was waiting for an assignment that I could so easily give to myself and simply skip the arbitrary middle-man to send me off to do something I was so eagerly waiting to do anyways. So, what if? What if I gave myself the title: Writer. What if I sent my own self off to find the story? What if I believed that I was already that role I was waiting to become? I recently found a similar bio from a well-established and published writer, James Alutcher. He writes, "By the way, that first novel, and the four that came after it, and the 50 short stories that came after it, never got published. I used to think I needed to publish something before I could feel good about myself, before I could call myself a 'writer,' before I could have a girlfriend, before I could get a real job, before I could move to NYC. What a pathetic weight on my shoulder to think I needed something controlled by just a handful of people. Those weights stayed on my back for years. When you have weights on you, you can't move. The weights are only mental. Go ahead. Move." How many of us box ourselves in? Define ourselves by the way our pay stub describes us? Or by the self-measured hoops we use to dictate our "arrival?" Or by the standard societal latter we climb in reach of our desired role or professional title? What if we didn't think about the circumstances, logistics or opinions of others and believed we already are the artist, musician, writer, teacher, leader, inspirer and creator that is blooming inside of us, waiting for its chance to simply just be? So, continuing the words of James Alutcher: "Go!" Your mind is the only thing stopping you from seeing all that is already within you. So for a second, fill in the blank. Say to yourself, "I am a...... (that thing you heart so deeply desires to be.)" Say it as many times as you need to say it. Say it 'til you become it.
1 Comment
|
AuthorKatie Elizabeth: Writer, Wonderer, Wanderer. Archives
August 2020
Categories |