I’ve realized that for the past 25 years or so, I’ve not felt entirely in control of my time. Between parenting and working, there were many external forces determining my schedule and activities. Bedtime routines, sports practices, client deadlines, project team meetings, school schedules, etc. Most of the hours of my day were already spoken for before I opened my eyes each morning.
Without a job to clock in for and boys who are now basically adults doing their own thing, I find myself with many hours to fill day after day … with what? One can sleep in only so long and nap so often! And I quickly learned that watching daytime TV is a path to insanity.
I shared with my counselor that I was struggling to figure out what comes next. She suggested I do something creative with my hands—to get out of my head. (Apparently, she has ascertained I can over-think things. What? Me?). In doing so, I might open up new interests or outlets that I’d never considered. At the very least, I’d spend my time in an enjoyable way.
So, on a walk the other day, I let my mind wander. What could I do that’s creative with my hands? I happened to notice some random mechanical parts, probably from cars, along the sidewalk. One thought led to another, and next thing I knew, I went back and picked up those items and created an art piece from them.
Then, inspired by the process, I wrote a little poem of sorts. It also reflects my current feeling of being broken and not very useful, yet hopeful for the promise of being remade, discovering new things about myself, and contributing differently along this journey.
I hadn’t planned to share either with more than a few folks, but in an act of vulnerability, I’m posting in this blog, trusting my readers to be kind. The next Van Gogh or Emily Dickinson, I am not. But it was a fun process and did seem to unlock some latent creativity synapses. I already have in mind the next little bit of art I’d like to create. Luckily, “art” and “poetry” are subjective, so there’s no wrong way to do it, right? So, here goes nothing…. (don’t laugh!)
Pieces and parts
Broken, abandoned, lost.
Once shiny and sturdy,
Useful or essential,
No longer so,
Hidden among the weeds
And in sidewalk cracks.
Perhaps their disappearance
Likely replaced, without hesitation.
Of fleeting interest, maybe,
In their out-of-place existence
To curious passers-by
But given no real thought.
No longer of necessity
In their damaged state.
Now revalued and remade
By eyes with different perspective.
Gathered and collected,
Elements of something new,