A Slower Pace

I used to be someone who enjoyed an ultra fast-paced lifestyle. I’d stay out until 2:00 or 3:00 a.m., wake up at 7:00 a.m., start working or attending classes (when I was in college), and do it all over again. I thought I loved it. But, the truth is, my nervous system didn’t. And, more than that, my creativity hated it. I felt so uninspired, just continuously running in the wheel, trying to force ideas to form instead of letting them flow naturally. This resulted in many different endeavors, some more successful than others. All very fun, and all provided learning opportunities in some way.

But now? My life looks like something I would have claimed to have hated ten years ago. And back then, maybe I would have. Maybe. But, you know what? I actually feel inspired. I feel joy. Hope. Thoughtfulness. Passion. And, what’s more, I feel like me. I like this person a lot. She’s ambitious, compassionate, kind, confident, soft enough to be strong, strong enough to be soft, gentle enough to speak up, and outspoken enough to be gentle.

My days look quite different now. I spend time with my cat and my husband. Quiet mornings with tea. Cheesy romantic films. Good literature—so much good literature. Art galleries on the weekends. Patisseries. Work done at coffee shops and in quiet office spaces. Sunlight, so much sunlight (and fresh air). I make almost all of my food from scratch. It’s a process that feels grounding to me. And in these different ways of finding peace and being creative, inspiration strikes. I want to write about and critique art. I want to create and write about different recipes; the cornbread inspired by the one my mom made every year for Christmas when I was growing up. I want to explain different literary theories and how they can be applied to stories and films and songs, even. I just want to write. Things like this, blog posts that feel more like journal entries. Poetry about art that inspires me. Essays about books and films and music and fashion that stir up something within me. It all feels exciting, and it feels like the first time I truly recognize the beauty in all of it.

Life feels like art now. I feel like art now. Love feels like art. Making tea feels like art. Everything feels like a beautiful painting. And what a joy to be part of it all.