I have thoughts all day. Thoughts regarding what to write and how I see the stories told. I write poetry off of one line because I am inspired. Once the moment has passed, I often stare in awe of my creations. I am overly frustrated when I sit and think of nothing. In the nothing I am nothing. I know that is false, but I think it anyway. When I reread from a moment of wisdom or passion I am angry at the current moment and how it presents to the world that maybe she who put pen to paper only yesterday was someone else. Like most things writing tends to ebb and flow. My thoughts power resides not in my belief in them, but in my patience in understanding that they will at some point return to me. It is a hopeless and hilarious thing to be at the mercy of creativity. I always thought that my brain gave me words to explain things with to others, but I am convinced now that these words are for me and me alone. Yes, I share the with you, but I am the one learning the lesson of them first. I am reconciling the world that I have lived in or perhaps live in still.
I want so badly to pause when each of the thoughts come and immediately write them down, but life has other plans for me. I think of all the writers before me and wonder if they too felt this unease as they navigated their drafts. I bet this challenge is similar to all of life’s challenges. We are at the mercy of something most of our lives. As children we are at the mercy of our parents and siblings. As teenagers we are at the mercy of our peers and our skin, weight, and hair texture. As adults we are at the mercy of our bosses or our coworkers. We then find that we are at the mercy of ourselves. Ourselves might be the scariest of them all. There is always a force beyond our current comprehension isn’t there? Incredible how well we are able to adapt, modify, change, and redirect for happiness. Subconsciously we are molding ourselves and our thoughts to fit better into the picture we want to see. The picture we think we see. Currently, I am working on two thoughts that seem to have caused a complete mental block. I cant move on without moving through them.
Completely off topic is the fact that I recently officiated a wedding for one of my oldest friends. The wedding happened in a place very dear to me in the heart of northeast Georgia. This place was my home away from home. When I didn’t want to be at my own home as a teen I could escape here. All of my friends escaped here too. There were as many as seven of us piled into the living room on a Saturday night, junk food at the ready and laughter so rich it fed all of our souls. We loved and fought with passion. We were available for each other through thick and thin. Once high school was over and most of us went our separate ways we all had a spot reserved in our hearts for this home we built together.
When I found out that my friend was getting married and I would be marrying him it was like being teleported back 20 years. I was puzzled at how it was possible that the boy I ate ice cream sandwiches with, and watched adult swim with was able to get married. The joy I felt at being the one to perform the ceremony was exactly like the feeling of going home after a long absence. I sat down to write the ceremony and was never bogged down by a writers block of any kind. I knew what I wanted to say to my dear friend and the woman who had his heart. Every word flowed with ease from my mind to my typing fingers. When I read it to my self for the first time I wept. Sharing words with someone is something I have always enjoyed. I had two months notice to prepare for this wedding. The time flew faster than I could’ve anticipated and I went from a concert the night before to the airport, and then the venue. Every moment moving faster than the last.
As I arrived to this home on a beautiful spring morning,I knew I would have strong feelings. I hadn’t laid eyes on this place in 17 years. I also hadn’t laid eyes on the woman who treated us like her own in as much time. I stepped out of the car and saw the trees beginning to bloom, the grass was green, and everything was it is place, just as I remembered. Walking in the front door she greets me with a warm embrace, her home smelling just like I remember. Overwhelmed with joy and sadness simultaneously. Joy over being there and sadness over the time lost. The relationships set aside.
Seeing all but a few friends of old we fell quickly into our easy conversation, each of us doing what needed done to make the day a success. It was time for the ceremony and everyone was in their places. I spoke their ceremony directly to the bride and groom forgetting ( mostly) that anyone else was there. I watched as they confirmed their vows, tied the knot, and I rejoiced with the crowd when they kissed for the first time as husband and wife. I truly had no idea how beyond magical it would be to perform a wedding. For the record, I hate talking in public in front of people. My brain tends to work a few steps ahead of my mouth and things get scrambled. Once it was finished I was awash with the high of the moment. I immediately wanted to do it again. Could we just relive the moment over and over?
The wedding was a gift. The warm and sunny Georgia day was a gift. Reminiscing and laughing with some of my most favorite people on earth was a gift. Seeing love shared was a gift. Being wrapped in the warm embrace of my youth again was a gift. Being able to write about it is a gift. Heres to finding the gifts in all moments, even those moments where I am clouded by writers block. Heres to the belief that the block is not preventing me from finding the words to share- its just forcing me to take time away to find more moments to write about.