Resetting Intention

It has been bubbling up, making itself known, riding in the passenger’s seat next to me.

Just brewing under the surface, that sort of ever-present existence of  ‘you must create‘ that sits, pounding under the tongue of most writers. But this time, it’s changed.

It isn’t just “you must write” ––it has become “you must write something…different”.

I’ve found myself paying attention to things that reinforce this. This week, it was one single podcast that really plagued me in the best of ways.


In the past 2 days, I have listened to this episode three times. Mostly, to really connect to a few key points that screamed “yes!” to me.

Simply put, 5 points \ quotes \ references \ that finally led me here today and on the path to discarding things that are feeling heavy.

To writing my truth.

 

Ok. A lot to unpack there.

A shit ton to hold yourself to, amirite?

But these five simple quotes really seemed to embrace how I have been feeling about life, creativity, writing, and being in the world. Most intense, is the idea that I am holding on to ideas about myself that are no longer true.

 That no longer bring me the joy they used to.

That are no longer done with real, true, beautiful INTENTION.

My entire life, I have always been writing. I write for my career and professional life, and I have always had a writing project on the side.

But for ten years, I have focused so heavily in one area, that my time (and more importantly, my energy) has been on creating content in the food and cocktail space. It’s mostly been joyous. It’s mostly been fulfilling.

But more and more, over the course of the past year, I have found myself becoming detached, aloof, and distant from my content. I have found that things have started feeling expected of me––even to the point of filling me with anxiety. I started saying no to things, and found that I had an overwhelming sense of relief, rather than disappointment.

Those feelings have been eye opening. And I’ve had to ask myself the question, “just because I’ve been writing about it so long, do I always have to?”

No. Hell no. I don’t. (<—-what I keep telling myself when I feel like I do).

My content feels to me as though it is being created for the purpose of filling an Instagram account with beautiful photos (something that in itself can be quite joyous), but I’m not creating a cocktail, content, or photo with much attachment to it. Or, much attachment to the result of engagement. It’s become something I’ve put on auto-pilot. And while, this isn’t always the case, it is becoming MORE of the case.

To make matters worse, I have all but left the website to the wayside, and have found myself creating posts to just get it out of the way, and not because I find happiness in it.

What the actual fuck.

I do find true joy in food and drink. In the beauty of it. In the way it brings people together. But what I am realizing more, is that what brings me true joy are the conversations that are had. Of connections that are made. Of hearing a new idea, or feeling inspired. This is the beauty that I feel my writing and content isn’t covering. I want to write about so much more, that it is sort of about to just explode.

I am carving out space for it to happen.

Space for me to crash, head-first with beauty again. To write about things that make me feel inspired, crazy, alive, and human. There will no doubt be cocktails involved, but they won’t be the center of the experience.

I want to write a book, a memoir, a novel, more poems.
I want to leave a legacy of words, not just of cocktail photos.
I want to dream bigger and push myself harder to write more meaningful content.
I want my daughter to read my words and know me as a person, not just an enthusiast.
I want to write a book.

I’d love some company, but don’t expect it.

This ride is happening either way, and I am committed to being here and re-engaging all of the true joy that’s inside me.

I am putting myself IN THE WAY,

of beauty.

 ++Crash++

 

**Note: “put yourself in the way of beauty” is a quote from Cheryl Strayed’s mother. I don’t own it, but I plan to try to live by it.