Saturday, May 5, 2012

Starting, or it's always been words

When I was a little girl, I had Sesame Street sheets. My mom would tuck me in, and "fly" the top sheet over me. This was, of course, for the purpose of straightening the tangled sheet from my tossing and turning the previous night. (Making the bed did not become a priority for me until later.)  But I believed this was simply something mommies & little girls did at bedtime- a sleepy time ritual. The only part of this sheet set that remains is this pillow case:

Notice the alphabet?  I didn't...  At least until last week when getting ready to pack for our upcoming move. I remembered Bert & Ernie, Big Bird, the smell, the feel, everything about those sheets. These sheets have been a vivid memory of my childhood since I realized one is supposed to have childhood memories. How did I just notice the gigantic letters? Where did the letters go?

That started me thinking-- what happens to the things we used to love as children? Most of my Sesame Street sheets are gone. But more than that, the letters were missing from my recollections. The things Rachel loved as a child- drawing trees, writing stories, acting in my own one-woman-shows in the woods behind my house- these things seem to disappear as I entered adulthood. I traded this precious, free-flowing part of the person I am for the strictly organized, college educated, analytical self I've become. I let the grownup me bully my inner child. I let my left brain kick the tail of my right brain, resulting in a self-esteem crisis for poor Righty.

It seems to me that each person is given an organic, natural desire to be creative, and that our society is set up to squash this. We spend so much time training and exercising our left brains, that our right brains become decayed and desperate for exercise. For me that exercise has generally been words. I'm no beautiful, poetic writer--possibly because I haven't allowed myself to attempt to be for so long. I spent years writing papers and reports-- things meant to record and inform-- not to express or inspire.

I'm on an expedition to live a more abundant life, to live authentically.

I'll take those lost letters off my Sesame Street sheets and begin putting them back together to find my words.