Alchemy

I am practicing alchemy at the coffee shop. Trying to spin gold from rain, trying to make some kind of sun explosion, glint in my palm, from this damp, dark day. Patty Griffin raises something, a flag of organic, earthy hope, with her song, "I Don't Ever Give Up," thumping through the small speakers perched up near the menu boards.

The place was empty a few minutes ago, so I started singing, and it echoed, my voice, it echoed and that echo, the thunder of my own sound coming back toward my spine, climbing it back up to its origin, helped me out. It pointed my spirit up, again. It felt creative, and it was loud. Singing sometimes feels like the bravest thing, especially on these days, even when there's no audience. Just belting it, bringing force to it, attaining new heights with it--that feels like triumph.

I have this gorgeous fairy-esque friend, who has the biggest, most magical eyes you've ever seen. She and I always end up talking on the phone for hours in the middle of the night and she always brings such an interesting new shade of light to what I am going crazy over, and a few nights ago she said this, "In order to live, we must lose our fear of being wrong." Then we began to talk about how, as children, we were so brave. We were limitless. Our imaginations stretched their palms to the edges of everything, and nothing was impossible. And though some things were improbable, everything was worthy of testing, of trying out. We didn't assume we were right about situations, we simply didn't care, the experience being worth so much.

It is a wonder how many people are hiding their dreams in boxes, three ring binders, their heads. It is a wonder how many people only speak to themselves of high hopes, and great expectations.

I found something I had written on a piece of paper about a year ago. I'm guessing I got it off of a movie or something. And though it's somewhat cheesy, I am strengthened by it. I feel more capable after reading it, hearing it in my head as it should sound, this great noble question, "Is this the woman who doesn't give up?"

I want to be that woman. I want to learn the art of shutting up the surpressive voices in my head, to say with vigor, "Enough! I have had enough."