A beautiful mess
Life is messy. Plain and simple.
I chose this picture because it is a good example of the beautiful messes we make because we're alive and well. I've been feeling a bit empty lately. Lots of feelings and ideas, but without the tools to put any of it into words. Messy stuff these emotions.
When we dance, we get sweaty.
When we love, sometimes there is hurt.
When we travel, there is discomfort.
When we paint or make films or have babies or bake cinnamon rolls or drive or garden or grow we make MESS. Big, beautiful messes. Messes that are usually fixable, but sometimes not. Our words can cause joy or pain. Our actions, our choices, our passions and dreams are all connected to mess.
Life is just messy stuff isn't it? So rather than try to put into words how I feel that joy and mess are interconnected, I figured I'd just ask you all what you think. If anyone is left to read this, after my neglect of this blog. :)
How is your life a beautiful mess? What makes a beautiful mess anyway? What passions do you have that connect the joy and the pain and the creations and the mess? How do you embrace the yin/yang of it all?
Everything that matters most to me in this life has involved mess or pain of one kind or another. I suppose we can't have the great moments, without the messy parts. Sometimes we glide through moments like a graceful skater on moonlit ice....other times we fumble around like a drunk in a dark room. But we keep on reaching, keep on dreaming, keep on living and dying don't we?
The idea of a "Beautiful Mess" was inspired by my friend Jenn, someone I've yet to meet in real life who inspires me constantly. She wrote:
" No matter who you are or what you want, it will always be about a beautiful mess. It will be about what you go out to find, even if only right outside your front door. It's not always waiting for you in the remote places; it's how you feel about being remote and what you do with those feelings. It's not in the crowds in those places on earth, it's right inside you. Your soul is waiting for words from others. Wanting to absorb them and learn from them. Waiting to put them into the right categories. That is the mission in life. A sorting machine is what I am. What you are. What all is. Sorting things and absorbing their meaning is like fuel for a fire or food for thought. It's what you do with it that matters in life. Nothing else. It's all about what you do with your own beautiful mess. How you absorb it. What you feel. What you do with those feelings."