It's the end of my work week, and I'm sitting here like a grade school girl, wishing that love was like the movies. Growing up, I guess books and movies were the examples of love that I came to know. Also, my imagination. For instance, I used to dream that I was part of the cast of Dances with Wolves. Or Goonies. I wanted the adventure, and the intense connections. I still do. I long for it constantly, at least when I have down time. I create it in my songs and books, I suppose. The feeling I longed for...it had nothing to do with appearances.
Rather, it was all about adventure and connection. Still is. Deep connection. Yes.
And yesterday, I was in the sanctuary wishing to God that one of my dreams would be real, in real life, in real time. I suppose I've been disappointed by movies, books, and my imagination, because some of it becomes quite real to me, at least when we're talking about emotions.
Is that part of being an artist? Creating that loneliness on purpose? I'm wondering. A lot of great artists struggle with loneliness, depression, and the like. Even when I'm writing comedy it happens. Artists have all sorts of dilemmas on the side, but humans in general struggle with all of these things. So, I won't assume that any of it is special and simply reserved for artists. No. I think that notion is a cliche.
Perhaps I'm touching on a hole that everyone can relate to. Some say, fill it with God. Or focus on loving the self. Or help others. I haven't mastered these notions...I still look to outside things some days. Or, I stay alone and keep writing, things of that nature. I channel it into art, which keeps me alive, honestly. I do help a lot of folks...and that feels right to my heart. Yes.
But I don't know the answer to this separateness we all seem to experience, and I don't know why it exists.
Seems like the world should be gentler and less complicated.
But why can't one dream be real? Perhaps it is. It's all quite confusing to me right now, to put it mildly. After finishing my fifth book, I've been uncomfortable. Uncomfortable. Because I'm definitely changing, and it's uncomfortable. So, here I am. Fifty. Getting older by the day. Feeling older too. Looking in the mirror and feeling quite a bit of loss. And for a while I became trapped in the idea of wanting to fix everything, to keep up with all those Internet girls, stars, or young girls, or whatever. But just the thought of it is exhausting and sad to me. Going down that road doesn't make me happy. It's just not right to my heart.
But I'm real.
Does that matter to anyone?
I don't know.
Yes, it matters to my friends. And oftentimes, people approach me and tell me they appreciate my openness. So, there's that. But it scares folks too.
I'm definitely not anyone's trophy wife. I'm stubborn and strong as fuck some days. Other days I cry and want a cookie. Still other days you'll find me randomly dancing about my workday, cracking jokes like mad. I'm wild, unpredictable, and free, and that scares people too.
There is a fire inside of me that only singing touches. There is a fire inside of me for a completely different life, and I feel like I've fucked up. How I wish I could go back. I have a lot of regrets.
I remember hearing a story about Frida, how she and her lover lived in separate apartments that were connected by a walkway above ground. I understood that, but that's not for me either. I want to be with my wolf. I've had partners before, sure, over time, but it's been twelve years now. Twelve years, yeah. In that time, I've done a ton of therapy, written four books, built a lot of strength, and created a ton of photography, songs, and other things. But last night, when I was enjoying creating a new song in the sanctuary, I asked God for the dream to be real.
Adventure and connection. Music. Yes. I'm not seeking. Instead, I'm experiencing these feelings and listening to the storm rolling in. And for what it's worth, I feel the fire inside of me right now, writing to you.
Again, it has nothing to do with surface or appearances. It has to do with a soul connection. Indeed. For me, that fills the hole. And now, here we are, and I am smiling again.
Love to you,
C.A. MacConnell
P.S. FIVE published books by C.A. MacConnell on Amazon NOW!
P.P.S. Need writing help? M.A. English/Creative Writing, Hollins University. Over 30 years of experience in all genres. You name it; I can do it. PHOTOS: custom, signed prints. Or prints on metal or canvas, ready to hang. Email: right here.
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