“I want to live a Creative Life,” he spoke. “I want to live, share, and experience in the company—mind, spirit, and body—of others who desire to live and share the same.
I want to express. I want to exchange. I want to live and find and trade in mutuality of openness when there is something there to share.
I don’t know what you want. I don’t know how you wish to live—what your life holds, or what it is that’s missing and you wish was there to know—but I thought maybe…maybe, you’d like to live and share the same.
I like listening. I like learning; wanting heard—or read—to be known as well. I like speaking on common interests when it is learned that they are there, interests that seem lost or lessened to most it seems to day: books, gardens, thoughts, and dreams—spirit beyond and more than simple picture and caption depth.
I feel like I’ve been writing the same circle-cycle of stories for years, been living the same habited and ungrowing life. I don’t know what else is out there to live and write and find; but I want to learn; and I want to share as and when I do.
You said once to do what scares you—to stop talking yourself out of what it is you want to do—because in doing what it is that makes the fear, you’ve already succeeded in your purpose: to choose risk and life and growth in experience beyond the fear and comfort: to choose and further expand in trial and experience of a new…
I believe that’s what I’m doing, what it is I’m trying to ask—something that scares me because it’s beyond a fear and limiting of self within self; a desire for growth and learning of new as goal.
If I do what I fear, then I’ve already succeeded in a way, regardless of the answer…”
He looked to the ground, eyes humble and low as he searched for a courage that was not there but in.
Finding—nothing to lose and something to gain—he asked, “Would you like to share a Creative Life?”
Words lingered, floating in a hope.