Behind every blog, there is a story about how the author came to be sharing their innermost thoughts with the world. The story of my blog is a tale about an adventurous, creative individual who got lost and forgot where they came from…As with all good stories, this one has a Beginning, a Middle and an End. No, hang on a moment…I’m getting carried away; It doesn’t have an end because it’s the story of an epic journey that will probably take a lifetime to complete. Who knows? I may never reach the end of this journey and I’m totally OK with that. One thing of which I am certain however, you are very welcome to join me. Is it promising to be an interesting adventure…
The Beginning:
What seems a lifetime ago, I was an adventurer and a dreamer. I was fearless, curious and creative. I planned to explore the world and be everything that I knew I could be (I remember wanting to be either spaceman or dog, I don’t recall having a preference). The universe had no limits back then and I felt happy with my place in it. But as we all know, epic journeys are rarely straight forward and this one is no different. One day a while back, I’m not sure when, I stopped being an adventurer and forgot about the dreams I had. I became a thinker. I thought too much, too often, too long and too hard. I never stopped thinking, my mind was constantly abuzz with activity and the world seemed an exhausting place to be. Worst of all, I no longer went off on adventures, not even in my mind…The adventurer in me was lost and fear of failure stopped me doing the things I had once dreamed of. Life continues without the dreams and so on I went.
The Middle:
As luck would have it, for it makes for a far more intriguing tale, it was a chance meeting in a rather uninspiring pub in Middlesex which proved to be the catalyst for change and brings us to the middle of this story. A visit to an open-mic night resulted in a fateful meeting with a rather bohemian looking chap with untamed curly hair and sparkling eyes. His appearance caught my attention the moment he entered the pub and I uncharacteristically opened a conversation with him when he paused near me at the bar. “Hi, I’m Caren. Nice to meet you” I said, boldly. He regarded me curiously and smiled whilst shaking my hand and introduced himself too. Shortly after the formalities were done, he uttered an innocent enough sentence which proved to be ‘the moment’ my life began changing irreversibly; “So, you look like you’re creative…Do you play an instrument?” “Oh no, I’m not creative at all”, I said, laughing at his comment. And then came the killer blow: “Everyone has some creativity inside them”, came his straightforward and earnest response. So that was it…A creative life reborn from a chance meeting with an artistic soul who saw creativity in everyone he met.
I didn’t feel or suspect the power of his words immediately, I was too busy being pleased that my recent revamp had resulted in a ‘creative’ image. I did however start thinking that he was right about the creativity I had within me…I loved to write and draw when I was younger…Why did I ever stop doing something that I enjoyed so much? When did I start denying my creative nature? So, the wheels were set in motion; I resolved to spend time nurturing my creative side and return to writing or at the very least doing something vaguely creative.
A few months later, I finally put pen to paper, driven by another seemingly random event, to attempt to write a poem (my horoscope told me to write a poem for a friend who I didn’t know what to buy for Christmas). I didn’t expect that I could do it, but something was telling me that I should have a go anyway. So, I wrote a poem. It took less than an hour and I thought it was pretty good for a first poem, I astounded myself. Within days came the next poem, and the next…Very soon I had lines of new poems leaping into my mind as I went about my daily life. I would frantically scribble them down, or type them into my mobile phone…Just as long as I captured the words before they evaporated from my mind. The moment I got home, I would look back at what I had written and from there a new poem would form itself on the page, like a creative miracle unfolding before my eyes.
Then came the brave part, I started showing people my poems. I started small at first…Just friends and family who were pretty much obliged to tell me that they liked what I had done. They said they liked them, and it didn’t seem as if they were just saying it just to be polite. They really seemed to enjoy my poems and they expressed genuine admiration that I was writing ‘such good poems’! I was writing poetry that other people enjoyed and admired. I couldn’t believe it, I was feeling rather blessed.
Finding that I could write poetry was amazing, but that is just the half of it really. I have yet to share the true miracle of this story; After a few months of writing, I suddenly realised that my mind actually felt quiet and still for a change…I wasn’t constantly thinking any more, I no longer endlessly pondered every aspect of my life, seeing problems at every turn. Something in my brain had been switched off and in doing so, my mind had found the space to rediscover its creativity. Poems that flowed from my heart, outpourings of feelings and past pain, provided therapy that I had searched and searched for but never found. I was writing poetry which I never imagined might be within me and at the same time I was healing the wounds of my past. I had gone from feeling ‘rather blessed’ to feeling truly and utterly blessed that this gift had been released from my depths.
Not the End Yet:
Now I’m a writer, a creative soul, an intrepid adventurer, and even a mischievous pixie when the mood takes me. These things were in me, buried deep beneath layers of self-doubt and fear. For so many years I tried to be something I was not, to be the person I had come to believe I was. Somehow though, I knew something was not quite right with my world…I felt out of balance, anxious, as if something was missing. Until recently, I had no idea what was missing, but there was a palpable sense of lacking nonetheless. I may have forgotten who I was and how I wanted to be, but somehow my inner being never forgot and it was putting a lot of energy into making sure that I knew I was missing out on my creative destiny.
Until recently, I was still clinging to the old habits of limiting my potential by telling myself and others that I ‘cannot’ do certain things…”Yes, I’m doing well at writing poems, but I think I would struggle to write a novel…and I most certainly cannot draw to save my life” (DoodleManifesto blew that one out of the water, now I believe I can do anything), “I would love to leave London and live by the sea, but I don’t think it will ever happen”. Then just 4 short months ago, things changed again (I am in awe of how the universe does these things)…Another chance meeting, this time with a writer whose work I liked and admired very much, led me to joining a forum where I could post my poetry to a wider audience and receive admiration from people who were not obliged to be kind. Confidence in my abilities is growing daily, as a result of the positive feedback I have been getting. The same chance meeting planted the seed of an idea which I previously thought impossible…I could leave London and live by the sea, all I had to do was make the decision and then get up and go. Would the world stop revolving if I quit my job and my flat and move 450 miles to Scotland? A lifetime ago, I’d have assumed that it would stop turning, but now I know it will not. In a seemingly irrational fit of impetuosity, I have done exactly that, and news flash: The world did not stop turning, it has carried on, oblivious to my actions. I am fulfilling my dreams and heading to Scotland to lead a creative, spiritual life by the sea.
My adventurous and creative self has been reborn and I’m feeling truly alive. My journey stretches ahead of me and I’m striding along the path with energy and optimism. I’m so glad you’ve decided to join me, I will enjoy having someone to share the excitement with...
The Beginning:
What seems a lifetime ago, I was an adventurer and a dreamer. I was fearless, curious and creative. I planned to explore the world and be everything that I knew I could be (I remember wanting to be either spaceman or dog, I don’t recall having a preference). The universe had no limits back then and I felt happy with my place in it. But as we all know, epic journeys are rarely straight forward and this one is no different. One day a while back, I’m not sure when, I stopped being an adventurer and forgot about the dreams I had. I became a thinker. I thought too much, too often, too long and too hard. I never stopped thinking, my mind was constantly abuzz with activity and the world seemed an exhausting place to be. Worst of all, I no longer went off on adventures, not even in my mind…The adventurer in me was lost and fear of failure stopped me doing the things I had once dreamed of. Life continues without the dreams and so on I went.
The Middle:
As luck would have it, for it makes for a far more intriguing tale, it was a chance meeting in a rather uninspiring pub in Middlesex which proved to be the catalyst for change and brings us to the middle of this story. A visit to an open-mic night resulted in a fateful meeting with a rather bohemian looking chap with untamed curly hair and sparkling eyes. His appearance caught my attention the moment he entered the pub and I uncharacteristically opened a conversation with him when he paused near me at the bar. “Hi, I’m Caren. Nice to meet you” I said, boldly. He regarded me curiously and smiled whilst shaking my hand and introduced himself too. Shortly after the formalities were done, he uttered an innocent enough sentence which proved to be ‘the moment’ my life began changing irreversibly; “So, you look like you’re creative…Do you play an instrument?” “Oh no, I’m not creative at all”, I said, laughing at his comment. And then came the killer blow: “Everyone has some creativity inside them”, came his straightforward and earnest response. So that was it…A creative life reborn from a chance meeting with an artistic soul who saw creativity in everyone he met.
I didn’t feel or suspect the power of his words immediately, I was too busy being pleased that my recent revamp had resulted in a ‘creative’ image. I did however start thinking that he was right about the creativity I had within me…I loved to write and draw when I was younger…Why did I ever stop doing something that I enjoyed so much? When did I start denying my creative nature? So, the wheels were set in motion; I resolved to spend time nurturing my creative side and return to writing or at the very least doing something vaguely creative.
A few months later, I finally put pen to paper, driven by another seemingly random event, to attempt to write a poem (my horoscope told me to write a poem for a friend who I didn’t know what to buy for Christmas). I didn’t expect that I could do it, but something was telling me that I should have a go anyway. So, I wrote a poem. It took less than an hour and I thought it was pretty good for a first poem, I astounded myself. Within days came the next poem, and the next…Very soon I had lines of new poems leaping into my mind as I went about my daily life. I would frantically scribble them down, or type them into my mobile phone…Just as long as I captured the words before they evaporated from my mind. The moment I got home, I would look back at what I had written and from there a new poem would form itself on the page, like a creative miracle unfolding before my eyes.
Then came the brave part, I started showing people my poems. I started small at first…Just friends and family who were pretty much obliged to tell me that they liked what I had done. They said they liked them, and it didn’t seem as if they were just saying it just to be polite. They really seemed to enjoy my poems and they expressed genuine admiration that I was writing ‘such good poems’! I was writing poetry that other people enjoyed and admired. I couldn’t believe it, I was feeling rather blessed.
Finding that I could write poetry was amazing, but that is just the half of it really. I have yet to share the true miracle of this story; After a few months of writing, I suddenly realised that my mind actually felt quiet and still for a change…I wasn’t constantly thinking any more, I no longer endlessly pondered every aspect of my life, seeing problems at every turn. Something in my brain had been switched off and in doing so, my mind had found the space to rediscover its creativity. Poems that flowed from my heart, outpourings of feelings and past pain, provided therapy that I had searched and searched for but never found. I was writing poetry which I never imagined might be within me and at the same time I was healing the wounds of my past. I had gone from feeling ‘rather blessed’ to feeling truly and utterly blessed that this gift had been released from my depths.
Not the End Yet:
Now I’m a writer, a creative soul, an intrepid adventurer, and even a mischievous pixie when the mood takes me. These things were in me, buried deep beneath layers of self-doubt and fear. For so many years I tried to be something I was not, to be the person I had come to believe I was. Somehow though, I knew something was not quite right with my world…I felt out of balance, anxious, as if something was missing. Until recently, I had no idea what was missing, but there was a palpable sense of lacking nonetheless. I may have forgotten who I was and how I wanted to be, but somehow my inner being never forgot and it was putting a lot of energy into making sure that I knew I was missing out on my creative destiny.
Until recently, I was still clinging to the old habits of limiting my potential by telling myself and others that I ‘cannot’ do certain things…”Yes, I’m doing well at writing poems, but I think I would struggle to write a novel…and I most certainly cannot draw to save my life” (DoodleManifesto blew that one out of the water, now I believe I can do anything), “I would love to leave London and live by the sea, but I don’t think it will ever happen”. Then just 4 short months ago, things changed again (I am in awe of how the universe does these things)…Another chance meeting, this time with a writer whose work I liked and admired very much, led me to joining a forum where I could post my poetry to a wider audience and receive admiration from people who were not obliged to be kind. Confidence in my abilities is growing daily, as a result of the positive feedback I have been getting. The same chance meeting planted the seed of an idea which I previously thought impossible…I could leave London and live by the sea, all I had to do was make the decision and then get up and go. Would the world stop revolving if I quit my job and my flat and move 450 miles to Scotland? A lifetime ago, I’d have assumed that it would stop turning, but now I know it will not. In a seemingly irrational fit of impetuosity, I have done exactly that, and news flash: The world did not stop turning, it has carried on, oblivious to my actions. I am fulfilling my dreams and heading to Scotland to lead a creative, spiritual life by the sea.
My adventurous and creative self has been reborn and I’m feeling truly alive. My journey stretches ahead of me and I’m striding along the path with energy and optimism. I’m so glad you’ve decided to join me, I will enjoy having someone to share the excitement with...
Awesome Caren!
ReplyDeleteI love the 'mischievous pixie' line... Fits you quite well, actually!
I'm subscribing to your blog and look forward to seeing what happens next in this epic adventure of yours!
Your cousin, Peter.