Stardust...
The astronomers who wrote my textbook tell me that the largest stars, those with the most gases and heat, die the quickest. They burn off all of their fuel and then explode, leaving behind them stardust and gas.
I am feeling like an exploding star these days. I realize that I have a bad habit of burning off my fuel too quickly, and then I am left with stardust. And while this is the stuff scientist theorize that earth and all the living came from, damn if the explosions don't hurt.
Jordan told me that it was safe for me to fall apart around him because I'm not going to go to pieces, and that I have permission to follow my dreams where ever they lead. I am finding that I am scared to. My friend Ryan called me today, and he also is learning the art and beauty of finding his dreams waiting for him right where he left them. It seems so elegant and simple in a way. I know, however, that I'm not seeing the years and years of pain that came with those dreams being differed, put off over and over again. I truly hope he gets his tree of life, that the longing will come to pass for him.
Why can I hope this for my friend, and not for myself? Is there something so essentially wrong with my dreams that I cannot even dare to pursue them, just go on a similar track? Why is painting so evil, so impractical, so inaccessible to someone who's been told her whole life, "You can do what ever you want?"
I have been fearful of losing my family again, that a wrong choice will mean their love and affection will be fleeting once more, unknown and unfelt in a search for responsible decision making. I, who am constantly telling others to take the road less traveled and go for their dreams, am struggling tonight to embrace chapter three of what I told God I wanted before I came back to Oregon: to be an artist.
Artist.
It sounds so regal and far reaching to me. To others, it sounds genuinely messed up and pie in the sky. Yet I know that there are artists in this world. I see their work almost everywhere I look, and I am thankful for them. They give me something I cannot live without, beauty. Why is it that I think my parents will shun me once again if I become an artist and use my abilities to help young people realize how beautiful they are, created like the Creator? Why am I panicking when it's finally time to embrace myself, all of myself? Do I still believe God is not good and unable to give me good gifts and plant those desires for those good things deep in my heart?
This desire never goes away. Neither does the longing for husband, children, travel. Are these the clues that lead me on the road map of my adventure here on planet earth? I think they must be. Yet I am so skeptical, so afraid to trust my heart once more. Still I know He loves me and has placed His heart in me. I can trust His heart, even as my own beats wildly saying, "No. It can't be. It's just too good to be true."
Nothing's wrong tonight. But it is time to make a choice. And why wouldn't the best choice for me be the blessed choice? I don't have to spend my whole life separate from others. I will not contaminate the world I am in. I don't have to be afraid of being swayed. I can be myself, even when the real me is and always will be a wife, a mother, and an artist. My life does not have to be over because I am finding myself in the stardust.
I am feeling like an exploding star these days. I realize that I have a bad habit of burning off my fuel too quickly, and then I am left with stardust. And while this is the stuff scientist theorize that earth and all the living came from, damn if the explosions don't hurt.
Jordan told me that it was safe for me to fall apart around him because I'm not going to go to pieces, and that I have permission to follow my dreams where ever they lead. I am finding that I am scared to. My friend Ryan called me today, and he also is learning the art and beauty of finding his dreams waiting for him right where he left them. It seems so elegant and simple in a way. I know, however, that I'm not seeing the years and years of pain that came with those dreams being differed, put off over and over again. I truly hope he gets his tree of life, that the longing will come to pass for him.
Why can I hope this for my friend, and not for myself? Is there something so essentially wrong with my dreams that I cannot even dare to pursue them, just go on a similar track? Why is painting so evil, so impractical, so inaccessible to someone who's been told her whole life, "You can do what ever you want?"
I have been fearful of losing my family again, that a wrong choice will mean their love and affection will be fleeting once more, unknown and unfelt in a search for responsible decision making. I, who am constantly telling others to take the road less traveled and go for their dreams, am struggling tonight to embrace chapter three of what I told God I wanted before I came back to Oregon: to be an artist.
Artist.
It sounds so regal and far reaching to me. To others, it sounds genuinely messed up and pie in the sky. Yet I know that there are artists in this world. I see their work almost everywhere I look, and I am thankful for them. They give me something I cannot live without, beauty. Why is it that I think my parents will shun me once again if I become an artist and use my abilities to help young people realize how beautiful they are, created like the Creator? Why am I panicking when it's finally time to embrace myself, all of myself? Do I still believe God is not good and unable to give me good gifts and plant those desires for those good things deep in my heart?
This desire never goes away. Neither does the longing for husband, children, travel. Are these the clues that lead me on the road map of my adventure here on planet earth? I think they must be. Yet I am so skeptical, so afraid to trust my heart once more. Still I know He loves me and has placed His heart in me. I can trust His heart, even as my own beats wildly saying, "No. It can't be. It's just too good to be true."
Nothing's wrong tonight. But it is time to make a choice. And why wouldn't the best choice for me be the blessed choice? I don't have to spend my whole life separate from others. I will not contaminate the world I am in. I don't have to be afraid of being swayed. I can be myself, even when the real me is and always will be a wife, a mother, and an artist. My life does not have to be over because I am finding myself in the stardust.
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