“Each moment of our life, we either invoke or destroy our dreams.”
-Stuart Wilde
Orchids, Creativity, and Coloring Outside The Lines
It’s odd what takes hold in my mind. Worse, I sometimes tell my husband my thoughts, and he starts muttering something about me being just plain weird. Meh. If that is so, I welcome the label. At least weird means I’m not beige and boring! Here’s an example:
Earlier this week the NBC Today Show aired a segment on Hoda Kotb’s venture into motherhood. If you missed it, you can see it here: http://www.scarymommy.com/hoda-kotb-new-baby/
As I watched Hoda talking so lovingly and passionately about becoming a mom, I realized (through my tears) she was echoing my feelings about creativity. “I always had this feeling inside that I wanted a baby, but I thought I was too late…You just think, ‘Okay, I don’t get everything, and it’s okay.’ Then all of a sudden you look around and you go, ‘Well, why not me?’” said Hoda.
Oh my gosh, I thought, I felt that exact way about my writing and photography. That it was too late, that my chance for success was behind me. But then, like Hoda, I thought, Where is that doubt coming from? Why do I think there is an expiration date on being and becoming? Why NOT me?
So Hoda applied to adopt, and I applied to college. She waited to hear about a baby, and I gestated my creative energy. Hoda kept her baby news a secret, and I shyly dabbled in photography and writing while loathe to talk about it with others.
Hoda says, “When I look at her I see forever…I see past me, I see the future, which I guess I never saw [before].”
Yeah. That’s powerful.
When someone tells me my writing or photography touches them emotionally, I see past me too. I see the connectivity that entwines us as humans. I feel both enlarged and small because something within me came out into the world.
Maybe I am weird to compare motherhood and creativity. But maybe I’m not. Both entail enormous amounts of commitment, time, and love. Both come with zero guarantees and sleepless nights. And both have the capacity to spiral us upwards into zones of emotions we never, ever, fathomed.
What do you think? Are we ever too old to reach for our dreams?
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