Literally just kicked my shin into the middle of the very small Japanese table I'm sitting at. I had no idea how tall I'd be for this country. Then I put a hat on my head. As if I wasn't -- too tall -- enough. I'm bending through doorways & tripping & jamming my toes everywhere.
Falling makes me feel: Clumsy. Awkward. Mis-sized. Commonly Bruised. Doubtful. Am I supposed to walk through this door even though I'm bending my head sideways just to get through it? haha, ok you get it. I just still can't get over how tall I feel here, or sometimes how tall I feel in my dreams.
I was in love with Japan long before I came here. I can prove it. I doodled this drawing on the plane. Before landing, I was declaring it. I carried the image of "The Great Wave Off Kanagawa"(Hokusai) in my phone all year as I visioned traveling here to screen The Wave I Ride. My interpretation of the great wave sketched in my mini-moleskin next to the words, "Lovers in Japan." I thought, "Me & Japan & The Sea." I pictured us all perfectly together.
Who I am inside of my creative process has a lot to do with my nerve to fall really hard & fast in love. I'll barely admit to it. I usually won't speak about something that's been living in my head for months. Yet, I see a spark of something and suddenly I'm writing it beginning to end in my dreams. I fall so hard in love, that it's immediately birthed into an obsession I'm working over and over again in my brain.
With vivid colors I see: How I'm going to feel while making it, how it'll feel when it's finished, the elation on the faces of people I'll share it with, what my hands are going to look like as I'm digging deeper, the faces of my muses & collaborators, the look of the world that's about to accept it. Every part of it, in all it's layers. I see it.
So I get a bit attached. This is the terrifying part. In a sense I'm falling in love with something that hasn't lived a true one day. Suddenly it's imperative it gets done. I'm about to be crushed if it doesn't happen. It's now alive in my mind & needs to be in my world. If I don't go a little crazy & get a little reckless about the whole thing, I don't know if my creativity will ever feel imperative enough to be made. It needs to be alive in me before it's even close to starting, so that I'll kick and scream and cry with any sign of it escaping me. Falling in love has this possibly- devestating-damaging-to-my-ego-and-every-bit-of-me-that-dares-to-create-again entity to it. (enough dashes? I'm into them today & the way they look in sentences like Japanese symbols.)
A few things I can be positive all this mayhem brings: makes me ridiculously good at brushing myself off, cringing in the eye of mistake, and being Phoenix-like to find some inspiration again after failure. It helps me own broken-heartedness. It helps me remember pure abundance. It makes me agile as heck. It gives me a whole lot of grace.
And of course. When I succeed the addiction will guarantee, I'll fall again. Falling out, falling in, and stumbling around.