There was a time when I wrote poetry, simply because it was new and fun and I didn’t overthink it. I won prices then.
There was a time I doodled and sketched, I painted and tried new media every other week, simply because it was new and fun and I didn’t overthink it. I got compliments and ended up in papers.
There was a time I made up stories, simply to cheer someone up (or to get me out of trouble – my lies were so big I actually earned praise. Thinking about it, I should have become a politician.) I wrote nonfiction and essays, simply because I needed to work through some experience or new knowledge and had to make sense of it. People loved to read what I wrote.
Eventually I started overthinking… I’ve no clue why? Perhaps because I thought in one language and spoke in another? Because I didn’t want to offend? Be liked? Fit in? Fit in what?
We can’t please everyone, I realized. It shouldn’t even be a goal. I ended up stubborn like my donkey Molly. But stubbornness takes us nowhere. It blocks. Sometimes we not even get the desired “carrot” like everyone else and we pretend it doesn’t matter though we sulk.
So this year, 2018 (in my synaesthesian mind I see this number as red, my favourite colour as a child), I intend to enjoy! I intend to enjoy the snowstorm outside, and the food I eat, the people I talk with, the paint I use, the word I invent, and the stories I come up with. If I enjoy my life – with everything being thrown at me – and enjoy whatever I will do, chances are others might as well.
No more overthinking… just thinking, just attention, just savouring.
Do you have intentions for 2018? Do you mind to share? I’d love to hear them.