Say Yes.

Oh dear reader, as quickly as they flit in, they flit out.

Remember so recently my choreographing a ballet as a part of my thesis? Well, perhaps not. Or, simply, perhaps not now.

My new thesis idea is a book of art with poems. Not novel, but novel to me.

My dad’s voice is readily in my head, “You’re paying $100,000 for THIS?!?” Yes, Dad. Yes.

But, to address first things first, yesterday’s intro to EMDR was much gentler than I’d anticipated, as my therapist had mentioned to me. And we’re starting small, gathering positive resources, grounding in safe space, assembling Team Molly, as it were. I cried only the teeniest bit, and did not get struck by a streetcar. In fact, I cried only that bit when I was recalling something really lovely actually. ~ I am grateful to have a woman as gentle as she is to guide me through this. And she’s consistently reminded me that her experience is not that patients have dramatic, radical shifts, but rather subtle changes they may not even notice till later when they realize they’re holding these things differently.

That said, the first thing I said to her yesterday when I arrived was that I was terrified, but we did the groundwork anyway. Because, yes, it is time. (insert Rafiki's voice from Lion King here – “Eet ees time.”)

To return to the thesis though. (First draft due Feb 15^th… Insert Marisa Tomei’s stamping foot from My Cousin Vinny … lol, I could do this all day...)

On Wednesday night, I had a wonderful experience. Having bought a copse of new, brilliant markers from Blick Art Supply store on Sunday, I sat down and began to experiment with these new, saturated, luscious, dripping, succulent colors. You can perhaps tell how much I enjoyed them.

I felt almost as if I were getting to finger the crevices of the greatest gemstones of all time. Basking in their glow. Delighted at how they caught the light, how they were able to instantaneously create something out of nothing.

I experimented for a while. With the different points and pressures and textures and shapes. I felt so calm and exhilarated. Like, this THIS is what it feels like to be engaged in what you want to be doing. And moreover, it feels like finally breaching the surface of the water after you’ve been under for too long. Relief in a way that makes you want to cry.

After I’d done a few of these just luxuriating in the experience of manipulating these colors and markers pages, I turned a page, and began to write a part of a story. Portions of the words fell right off the page, and the next line began somewhere a few words in, as if the others were being written … invisibly, on the other side of the page, on a bigger page that got cut, or weren’t actually written at all and there aren't any words to connect what you’ve read.

With my markers, I wrote a few more of these partial stories. Then I put them up on the wall in my kitchen. The drawing before I began writing continues to arrest me when I look at it. Something about it captures me. And it is under this one, that I’ve taped the first story piece, both are in red.

Perhaps, this is the beginning of a book. Perhaps the image and the story, or poem, relate.

And, perhaps as I thought about it this morning, perhaps there are blank pages for you, reader, to write your own story. Or perhaps blank pages for you to draw above the stories. Perhaps it's children's book-like. Perhaps the content isn't though. 

Maybe. Maybe not. But I sure like the idea. The idea of collaboration, of interaction, of experimentation, and creativity.

I’m currently reading a book by Thomas Moore called, A Life At Work: The Joy of Discovering What You Were Meant to Do. And as I also look at some of the work I’d done in response to What Color is Your Parachute, I am faced again with the notion that my work demands to be integrative, collaborative, fun.

This new idea, whatever comes of it, is part of this discovery process. It’s part of the milemarkers on my path to my path. (And, I will tell you, Thomas Moore agrees with me about not needing to "CHOOSE ONE" life path.) ;P

I’m going to play with this new idea. A little more implementable than the dance. We’ll see what happens. I may stick with all the work I’ve got and “Make it work,” or I’ll head here for now, and “Follow the fun."