“What would you do if you were experiencing my unfortunate overload of ideas?” I asked Bill today while sitting at a table by the window of the rustic coffee shop, the sun still shedding a little gray light upon us as the day faded. When I came across this familiar coffee shop character sitting in my favorite spot, I was compelled to sit down and absorb any inspiration he might try to share with me. He’s always been a supporter of my slow-progressing novel. He says he’d never met a novelist before– I’m not sure I could title myself as a novelist quite yet, but perhaps if I did, my progression would accelerate.
He pulled out a hand-sized notebook out of his back pocket. “I always carry this on me, because this notebook is like a rain gutter. If ideas are rain, I have to have something to catch them as they fall, otherwise they’ll come flooding down all at once.”
It dawned on me: my rain gutter had mysteriously fallen to the ground about four feet aside from its so-called-secure placement underneath the roof a few weeks ago. I’d called my property management, and this had apparently seemed too daunting a tragedy to fix themselves. They needed a bigger ladder, and haven’t come back since. Not even after the record-breaking avalanche of snowfall– 14 inches in one day! Finally, I moved the fallen gutter to the other side of the pathway so that the campanula could spring up freely as the snow melts. This, however, has created a miniature flood on my beloved unborn campanula that also rains down on my head whenever I leave and come back to my apartment. Of course– it’s all tied into the symbolic and metaphoric Feng Shui concepts I read, religiously, months ago.
My ideas are not being contained to flow in a river-like fashion, gently to the ground. My ideas are flooding atop my head, raining down all at once. As hard as I’m trying to focus on one thing at once, as the symbolic 1234 recurring number keeps reminding me to do, I simply can’t. What is focus anymore, anyway? 123, etc, is constantly nagging me to finish what I’ve started. Little does it know that my rain gutter has fallen and no one has a tall enough ladder to screw it back on! Not only that, but I’ve made so many different beginnings with all of my endeavors that I’ve become overwhelmed by options in such a wild maze.
I’m not just implying creative writing ideas. I have about ten writing ideas as it is, and as a result, have not made actions towards any of them . I’m pondering traveling to New Mexico for ten days and finishing my novel there. I’m considering starting a blog on either or all of the following topics: crossing paths with certain people persistently, numbers appearing persistently, traveling solo and being a freelance musician and artist, Cheyenne tourism, Downtown Arts, or the importance of herbalism in Western medicine. There’s more to it than that, still.
I am struggling with perfectionist issues such as the “right way” to record my album, how many songs should be on it, and how to do all of this by April 14th. Should I finish recording all my songs by myself, and be left to obsess with worry about the quality? Should I record with my unresponsive friends who say they have committed? What about the magical, sunny recording studio on a ranch in the boondocks? Yet, how can I begin to decide on any of these options when , by this point, I’ve almost lost interest in my music altogether?
A few days ago, in spontaneous attempt to forget about deadlines for music and writing, I began my spring moon herbal creations. I finally began up-cycling old wine bottles into herbal hair rinses, which felt exhilarating to begin, knowing I’d finally be getting rid of some clutter I’ve kept in my cupboards. I poured my heart and soul into shaking the bottles filled with apple cider vinegar and different herbs, blessing them with the best… but the infusions won’t be totally ready until next month. When to keep up with making those products is another interesting question to worry about.
I did make a couple firm decisions, surprisingly, this past week. I decided I will not only finish my Reiki II training with my original teacher in Boulder on April 8th; I will also do another I and II training in late April from a Reiki master in town, followed by a Cacao ceremony led by a Guatemalan chocolate shaman’s apprentice. I will be doing lots of communing with trees this month, hopefully obtaining a sense how they manage to expand their heights and stay rooted deep into the Earth. And hopefully by this time next month, my rain gutter will be fixed.