Fuck Around and Find Art, Fall in Love and Find Your Soul
Fuck aroundand find art.Fall in loveand find your soul.
On making a mess, wanting more, and falling in love with the life in front of you.
Make a little mess.
What I mean is, well, fuck around a little.
Try something. Be bad at it. Find out what you like and what you don’t. I don’t know how else we’re supposed to discover who we are or what we want from this life if we never give ourselves room to play.
I don’t think anyone sits down with their medium for the first time and immediately knows what to do with it. You have to get your hands into whatever is in front of you. Make a mess. Learn what feels right. Follow something just because it interests you, even if you have no idea where it’s going.
And in case no one told you, it’s entirely okay if what you make doesn’t look like what everyone else is doing. You’re allowed to have your own way of seeing things. Give yourself enough room to find it.
It probably doesn’t hurt to find your muse, either. Which brings me to the second part.
Develop a desire for your life.
Fall in love and find your soul.
When I say that, I don’t mean only with a person, although that’s a divine thing in itself. I mean fall in love with your life. Develop a desire for it. Pay attention to the ordinary things you’ve been walking past.
I don’t know that it happens in a day. Maybe it happens day after day, as you find little reasons to stay curious.
Sometimes it’s the weather feeling just right on your skin. A soft breeze, warm enough that you don’t want to go inside yet. Sometimes it’s a conversation with someone who gives you their time, where you move from mundane life stuff to the mind and love without noticing how you got there.
Those moments start to collect. You realize there’s sweetness in places you overlooked before. You start wanting more of your own life.
That’s falling in love, too.
And sometimes we get to experience it with another person. Someone who loves us in ways we’ve dreamed of, down to the most basic things. The way they look at us. The way they hold us. The freedom to be ourselves without masking or rehearsing what we’re going to say.
And we get to love them back. Learn them. Pay attention. Make room for who they actually are.
It truly is a remarkable thing, to love and be loved.
Let yourself be seen.
I wonder how many of us would admit how much we want it. How often do we say we’re fine without it because that feels less exposing than saying we’re lonely? Because wanting someone sounds, to us, a little too much like needing someone, and we’ve decided that’s embarrassing.
I know I get in my own way. I’m an overthinker. I’ll say something honest and then want to take it back. I’ll post a picture and consider deleting it because someone might get the wrong idea.
But I can’t explain myself well enough to prevent every misunderstanding. People can ask for clarity. We can have a conversation. I don’t want to spend my life anticipating every possible judgment before I let myself be seen.
We’re so quick to decide who someone is from a picture. We don’t know what their days look like. Their struggles, their losses, what it took to feel good that afternoon. Still, we ask, Who do they think they are?
Maybe they just liked the picture. Maybe, in that moment, they liked themselves.
I want to allow myself that.
I’m also learning what it means to have a life that belongs to me as my kids become adults. They are everything to me, and they are their own people. They have lives outside of mine, as they should. Watching them build those lives has made me realize I still have a path to walk, too.
Being their mother doesn’t make my wants and needs disappear. I want them to see me enjoying my life. Taking chances. Making mistakes. Loving, and being willing to love again. I want them to know they’re allowed to keep discovering themselves because they watched me do it.
There’s a seat at my table.
Finding your soul can be a reckless journey. You try things. You trust people. Sometimes you get hurt. Sometimes you realize you’ve been accepting less than you want because asking for more might mean losing what little you have.
I’ve done that. Accepted crumbs and tried to convince myself I was full.
I want to be honest about my appetite.
I would love to find my person and sit them down at my table. Let me feed you. Let me learn what makes you feel loved. I want to receive that same care, too, without feeling like I’ve asked for too much.
Until then, there’s a life here that needs my attention. Things to make. Conversations to have. A breeze I’d like to stand in a little longer.
Maybe this is where art and love meet for me: in the willingness to try, to pay attention, to feel something and let it matter.
Fuck around and find art.
Fall in love and find your soul.