A plate of warm, gluten-free Betty Crocker's chocolate chip cookies won't ever solve your problems. However, when accompanied by Septicflesh or Mozart and my Lifespan Psychology book, I find life's pains to be that much more survivable. At least, that's the current requirement.
Music, food and art: lifeblood. Soul-essence. Oxygen and dreams. These days, my life offers little time for the things I love. I miss spending hours upon hours drawing by a soft light with a glass of wine and something to snack on while losing myself to whatever music I desperately needed at the moment. I'm not exactly the greatest artist in the world, but I can draw and drawing makes me happy. I just wish it wasn't the first thing to go when life gets heavy. Once again, another week has passed without keeping that promise to myself...that I would break out the art supplies and be what I once was: a girl who loved to draw and dream and float on music.
Wonderful and intimate little gatherings, they were. Conversations with my pencils as Tori Amos taught me things about being a woman that I might have missed. Lessons about life and what it is to be human, with an inspiration to write poetry: a gift from Chuck Schuldiner. Glenn Danzig and his wonderfully comforting voice. The pulse of primal majesty that pounds in us all, eloquently illustrated by the most brutal death metal...it has always made me feel peaceful and aware.
As I walk into writing, I realize that this has become my only real outlet anymore. I suppose that's okay. You've got to have something, and my kitchen is presently void of the appropriate ingredients for salmon and curry. Again, I am thankful for that plate of cookies. And as Mozart has moved over for a little Beethoven, the cookies are settling in my stomach and I'm craving metal again, the baby is kicking at my belly. Little footprints on my insides remind me of where I messed up in life and how I got stuck. As I work to claw my way out of the mess I'm in, I have made another promise. This promise, is the most sacred of all and one I cannot afford to break. I will use my pain, my joy and all my experience to forge the tools needed to give my child the most important things I missed. I can't control everything and I can't force a good life on this little person, but I sure as hell can show the way I never saw when I was growing up. Every laugh, every cry, every belching contest, sunny bike ride, humiliating experience, brief victory, pencil-line, burnt dinner, amazing desert, slap in the face, warm hug, every everything I have, am, is, was or will be only matters now as I share it with this sacred little life within me. I just hope it's enough as this will always be my finest creation, and the one that matters more than anything in the universe.
Little footprint on my soul...
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