I am nothing if not blooming with ideas. (Or are ideas blooming with me?) And, for the first time in my life, I’m doing something about them. (Or are they doing something about me?) Either way, My Ideas and I are beginning to figure out how to work together.
They bombard me. Usually they are conceived on the wind, outside, plunking down on my head like pinecones dropped by a rascal squirrel. “Ha, Ha, Ha”, they chitter, “See what you can make of me!” Since becoming a mom six months ago, I’ve been paying more attention to them. Sure, I have more time to get to know them, more time at home thinking and reading and dreaming. Sure, I now have the biggest impetus to “amount to something”, aka Ysa Simone. But perhaps the most important shift, and why My Ideas and I are starting to pay attention to each other, is simple: I now believe they’re good. I’ve started saying, after I gush them to a supportive ear, “…And I don’t see what could possibly get in my way!”
This is all very nice, no? Poetic and whimsical, yes? Indeed, ideas can leave one starry and foaming, exuberant with the flush of possibility, the keen burst of insight. However, the ideas themselves and how they come about is not the hard part.
The hard part comes a little later, after my breathless glow has cooled from a rapid boil to a steady, pragmatic simmer, and I’m faced with them, head to head, heart to heart. My mind has whirred itself to a quiet by then, and together My Idea and I have a standoff. This is when I start to think of all the things that could possibly get in my way, contrary to my strident, invincible mission statement.
But I need not waste ink telling you about my doubts and worries. I trust you’ve had some of your own and, truly, they don’t make for the most fascinating story.
Instead I want to tell you about My Latest Idea.
I’m going to do this in bullet points. It’s easier that way.
- Problem: My Mom needs serious dental work. She needs implants and repair that I can’t even wrap my head around. We’re talking majorly serious mouth overhaul. Since we live (or die?) with a broken health care system in this country, there is no conceivable way for her (or any of us) to pay for this. I know maybe two people who could afford the amount of work she needs; the vast majority of us simply cannot. And so we suffer. But my little Mom has suffered long enough. In order to keep her around and for her life to flourish as it’s meant to, this needs to happen, and STAT.
- Dream and History: I plan to spend my time writing and illustrating children’s books. This has long been my plan. I’m practicing every day, and get filled to the brim with this inspiration. It’s what I want to do, who I am.
- My goal? To start my own publishing company. Possible name: Lichen Oak.
- Fact: My family and I are all artistic. Intrinsically. Uniquely.
- Another Fact: I believe that we all have (at least one) fabulous story in us that would fit well into a children’s book.
- Idea and Simple Math: If we each, my Mom and Dad, four siblings, and their respective children of book-writing age, put this concept “How Mom Got Her Smile Back” into our own version of a children’s story, make replicable copies, and sell them, we could (conceivably!) raise enough money to begin this process. Just think!
- One last litany of facts: My Mom is a saint. Anyone who loves her knows that she is sunshine and sweetness incarnate. She is fresh bread and warm arms. And everyone who meets her or knows her comments on one thing: her luminescent smile. However, this smile needs some rebuilding. It’s still there, and it lights up all of our faces, but it is waiting to truly shine.
What do you think? My family is on board. My dad said, after I told him yesterday, “Ok, so my assignment is…” and my sister left me an excited message: “Mace! Let’s do this!” Now we get to create, in the name of restoring a precious gift, and giving it a new life.
Stay tuned, we’ll have finished products as soon as we can.
With love, gratitude, and one very huge smile,