Today begins 25 days of reflections, photos, and half-formed thoughts. There will probably be food and recipes, but mostly, little chances to notice the Light and bring myself into it.
Emily and I are reading Ann Patchett's essay collection, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, for our Advent book club with one another. About writing (and really all craft) Ann says this:
Forgiveness. The ability to forgive oneself. Stop here for a few breaths and think about this because it is the key to making art, and very possibly the key to finding any semblance of happiness in life. Every time I have set out to translate the book...that exists in such brilliant detail on the big screen of my limbic system onto a piece of paper...I grieve for my own lack of talent and intelligence. Every. Single. Time. Were I smarter or more gifted, I could pin down a closer facsimile of the wonders I see. I believe, more than anything, that this grief of constantly having to face down our own inadequacies is what keeps people from being writers. Forgiveness, therefore, is key. I can't write the book I want to write, but I can and will write the book I am capable of writing. Again and again throughout the course of my life, I will forgive myself.
Beautiful. So I won't let perfection get in the way of being here every day, posting a few thoughts or a photo. All in service to this idea of Advent, which means "coming." What's coming? Have I made space for it?
In walks around my neighborhood, I often pass a car with a bumper sticker that says, "Do something creative every day." The house is kind of a mess--overgrown, lots of unfinished projects. But I get inspired by it every time. Maybe we can't live the life we want to live, but we can live the life we're capable of. Or create the dinner, write the poem, send the note, say the prayers we're capable of. And that is enough.