just Peachy thoughts

spark.

Last night I pulled a book off my shelf that I read a few years ago and flipped to a chapter. This is one of those glorious books that have teeny little bite-size chapters, and this book in particular happens to basically be a big pile of slices of the author’s life, kind of like a bowl of potato chips (but much healthier). So last night I snagged a chip right out of the middle and it really moved me. In fact, for a moment I wondered if it was really me who wrote it because it so ridiculously echoed what I was feeling. Here is an excerpt:

“I’ve always been a team player, a utility player, a workhorse, and to do something sheerly out of a deep love for the act itself feels foreign and vaguely scandalous. It feels, I’m realizing, selfish. But little by little, when I start where I’m stuck, over and over and over, getting stuck and unstuck, something cracks through, and life reveals itself to me like a scroll unfurling, and I write about it.”

I felt more alive just reading those words because they resonate with this desire I have to regain some kind of *spark* in my heart. And the odd thing is, my life right now is more like how I want it to be than ever before. And I still feel like I need a spark, something creative and expressive and raw, which is a direct contradiction of my natural tendency to constantly want, nay strive, to be perfect. My own perfectionism ironically kind of squashes me. 

Maybe my spark will simply be the freedom to be blissfully self-unaware. How liberating it might be to forget that my hair is acting up, that my shoes are worn out, that my car makes a funny noise, that my sink is layered with dirty dishes. What would I spend my time thinking about if I stopped thinking about these things?

ps, the book is Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist.

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