For months, weeks, days I keep telling myself that I’m going to be more active with my posting on my blog, which is to say, I’m going to add to the ONE post I have.
I’ve made countless lists with the word “BLOG” scrawled in effective bold letters, surrounded by stars and underlined twice. Something you should know: I am a compulsive list maker – they litter my kitchen table, bottom feed on the pens that populate the lowermost depths of my bags, and tuck themselves between pages of books and magazines. I’ll empty my pockets at the end of a shift waiting tables and pull out at least ten scraps of paper, all folded into tiny squares with lists like, “BLOG! Massage? Primary colors!!! Asymmetrical – build up and out. Constance Spry. No. 6 clogs.”
I think part of this delay has to do with fear – it’s the same fear that often paralyzes me on Instagram – standing on the precipice of putting yourself out there in the hopes of affirmation, likes, followers, fans etc. All that stupid ego-driven nonsense that we are all guilty of wanting, even if we don’t say it out loud, even if it exists as silly whispers in our hearts.
If I was writing this all for myself, with no hopes or pressure of attention or success it wouldn’t matter. It would be like dancing with the lights off. But in this format, online, out in the world, suddenly it matters more.
I’ve been telling myself to dedicate Mondays and Tuesdays to blog posts and even though it’s Saturday and despite my type-A perfectionist tendencies I’m going to just freaking go for it.
A couple weeks ago I went into the email I set up in conjunction with my website - I check it about once a month as it is often empty or full of a litany of irrelevant updates from Squarespace but never any real business news - and I found an email from someone who was referred to me by another florist.
I can't explain how encouraged and warmed my heart was by this little piece of news. My early adventures in flowering have been full of great learning experiences and despite how mad it can be and the fickle nature of the blooms and the early mornings I do still really love it all.
Only caveat is that I often feel quite alone - operating and floating on my own little island in my own little bubble. And that's okay – I suppose it’s part of being the new kid in class but this referral was a wonderful reminder that there are people out there who embody that sense of community and though it was just one small referral, it meant the world to me. It was heartening beyond words – like the first spring days when it’s still light at 6:00.
The second email I found was one from a dear family friend – I’ve known him since I was a child and he’s practically an uncle to me:
“I believe they call this wonderful skill Ikebana......and I also believe in addition to your fine intellect and great heart, you may have uncovered another extraordinary genetic discovery. How cool is that.
Attagirl.”
I felt simultaneously touched and strangely saddened by these two generous pieces of correspondence I received and I figured the best way to relive myself of this unbearable lightness would be to write about it. Consider yourself subjected.
