Flying Girl is Building her Scaffold, or Climb

Flying Girl is Building her Scaffold, or Climb
1/25/09
Golden fluid acrylics, Pitt Artist Pens, White Gel Pen

Oh, yes, that's how we get there. To those heights. We climb our ladders and put up our bracings, and build our climb out of memories and the sweat of our brow.

Interestingly, I just found some old notes and plans from 5 years ago, when I first started my blog. Yes, my old Wonderlanding blog began on January 19, 2004. You'd think I'd be farther along than I am with my blogging, but I had no idea the twists and turns that life would hold in store for me. And I had no idea how hard having kids was, either.

But, 5 years down the line, and I can see how I've build up my world to be something like what I wanted it to be. Yes, I thought the development would be one directional (as in all forward). No, I didn't take into account the complexity of some of my goals. No, I did not realize that some goals would fade out as I dealt with new ones. And I did not realize that I would have to go into survival mode, for a couple of years there.

My goals slowed down, when I had kids. I should remember that having kids was one of my big goals, and it was looking pretty grim on reaching that one, for a while. So, I think the sacrifice to my artistic goals was worth it.

But then again, as I think about my artistic development in those years when it was all going so much more slowly, I begin to wonder if instead of growing out and up, I grew inwards, stronger and more detailed, more secure. That's my scaffolding, preparing the way for how far I've come now. I feel like I have deeper motivation, now. I feel like my work has more meaning now. Not that it was shallow before, but it often seemed as if I was trying to make myself become who I was, instead of just BEING who I was. I feel like I have more understanding, now, and less desperation.

I feel bad for criticizing my younger self now. I know I meant the work I did then. And I really love some of it. Maybe I was trying to yoke my creativity to the meaning. The meaningfulness.

For example, back then, the books I was trying to write were literary fiction. My first book... I still love that one and hope to go back to it, but the one I lost (back up your computers, people) after I finished teaching... that one was me trying to write a literary story, and trying to wrestle the meaning into it. That main character is so bland. Was.

Now, I've acknowledged my first love of Science Fiction and Fantasy, and am enjoying myself much more as I write in genre. That's right. Not the high falutin' literary fiction. Just silly ole' SF/F.

My goals from back then? They'd gotten wet and smudged, so I couldn't see them all, but I know on the list was to start writing fiction again. I can check that one off my goals.

Maybe it's good that my old goals are faded into obscurity. It's okay to let go of your old desires, when new ones become available. It's okay to take new roads that you hadn't even seen on the map.

When you think back to the you of 5 years ago, or farther back... ten years ago... or when you were fifteen... what are the goals you wanted then? Have you reached any of those goals? Let any of them go? What do you think the 15 year old (or 20 year old, or 30 year old) you would say about your life now?