Sunday, December 09, 2007

Creative Renaissance

I had the good fortune Friday evening of photographing my favorite tap theatre company. (They shall remain unnamed for this post, but I'm going to use their images, because it's all I got. Sorry for the abuse ladies and gents. They have to remain unnamed because, see, they're stalking me. Okay, they're not really stalking me. It just makes me sound so much cooler if I say they are stalking me. "Hi, I've got like 9 hot chics stalking me and 2 good looking guys. Not "make me want to bat for the other team" good looking guys, but certainly very top tier looker men." (FYI ladies - they're happily accounted for. Sorry) Actually they use a Google device to alert them to when the company name appears on websites. Well, this post has little to nothing to do with them, so I'm not going to use their name. I still think it sounds cooler though if we say they're stalking me, it's so much better than what life actually is. Anyhow...)

I was on the way to the theatre when I realized I was passing the house of an old friend who I hadn't seen in many a year. I called her, gave her 15 minutes of notice and we went to the show. She was a sport. I may be neither here nor there about Christmas, she actively dislikes the season, especially this season. Let's say she's finishing up a rough relationship spot. (I was watching the tap performance and there was one love-ish scene which was just way to accurate in some ways to her life. I felt like such an ass. And it's hard to make me feel like an ass.)

So we got to see a show, then had drinks.

She had, during the show, and before given me some of the low down on her life. But it was when she got to fill in the details, it just made me feel good. Joyous. She's in a tough spot, or getting through a tough spot. I feel for her.

But I envy her. She is entering, I think, I feel it, it just screams out, a creative renaissance. She is an awesome, stunning poet. I was worried, as happens so often in so many arts, that she had largely stopped writing. For some reason she had popped into my mind a few times of late, and I've thought, "I'm going to kick your ass if you're not writing". This was a correct thought on my part, but totally unnecessary. I love it. She's writing a lot. She's trying to leave her job, go back to grad school to "study creative writing". She's looking for a break, a break to write, to focus on creating. I admire it. I love it. She's giving herself over to her creativity. She's always been creative, but it just feels so total.

Here she is, leaving a tough relationship, entering, not in, but entering a good place, mentally, emotionally. I don't know this, I feel this though. My instincts are good, as long my personal emotions aren't involved. I trust my instincts here. So I can feel that she is entering a good place. She's writing, from what she described, a lot. I love it. She's exploring some new forms, loving her old forms. She's using her hardship to create beauty. I so want to read what she has written. I'm going to kick her ass if she doesn't let me. She's creating, writing her way, through her challenges. She's sharing. Maybe that's just it, she's sharing, she's braving the waters of sharing those most personal of pains, and letting us feel them.

She's only told me a little, recited for me a bit poetry, here and there. I love it when people create, share. We talked about an old piece, 15 years old, maybe more, about the same man that is now the source of the challenge. How a piece so old, can be so wise, it's amazing. Tis her style though.

I've been truly blessed in this life, blessed to be friends, to have met, such an awesome range of people, and such creative people, such giving people.

I look forward to reading her writing. I'll be a lucky man the day I get to read those poems.

She is entering a place, a world where she will create, totally, purposefully, she is creating her own Creative Renaissance. I so want to watch it, read it. It brings joy to my heart, a soothed smile to my face. This, these, are the reasons, I love this world.

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