Who Are We?

When I'm asked about what my dream in life is, I first of all have to emphasise that I once was a girl, and now I am a woman, with dreams. There is nothing singular about my ambition, nor my being.

I think we're all duplicitous souls, but like dreams, that's very easy for us to forget.

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One of my aspirations has always been to create worlds. Worlds that dissolve the line between your living room and the telly box, that reach through the pages of well loved books and reassure you that you're not alone, worlds that are nothing less than portable magic. I don't dream of being a writer because I've always written; I inherently tick that box. But also, I think being a writer is about disappearing. It's the art of misdirection. It's not being identified as the orchestrator of words, rather the anonymous presenter of ideas. It's not look at me, it's look at this. I dream of creating feelings and experiences, and then stepping aside. If someone, anyone, connects to what I've written and can see themselves in it, can say look at me, then I'm proud that people were looking at this.

When I'm on the other end of this experience, I tend to connect to corners of this universe that are populated with passion. Passion that is unreserved, absolute. I think it's really important that we are relentless in the pursuit of that which sets our heart alight. I don't know where the idea that it's cool to be nonchalant came from, but is it? Is it really? Because the alternative to this is caring. Caring so deeply about something that your heart beats out of your chest every time you think about it. Caring so atomically that your soul is a step ahead of light itself. Caring so profoundly that you sparkle in a way that makes it seem like you've travelled the stars for thousands of years telling the planets about the notions you adore.

Caring is a beautiful entity, because it's human, it's what we're meant to do. It doesn't always have to be something grandiose or intricate that you care about, it could be something as simple as saying good morning to the birds because it's their first time living too. But every now and then, perhaps the fleeting and finite nature of our existence can be enough to encourage you to care about being good. To care about trying.

Loving, trying, caring; these things are never a waste. Human beings are a mosaic of all that they love, all that they've tried to do, all that they care about. People, ideas, feelings, they tend to linger, they tend to haunt. And ultimately they shape us into who we are. So whatever it is that creates the blazing inferno inside your chest, it matters. And what's more, this fire should never be put out.

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I'm able to be passionate, to be a woman with dreams, because I'm really lucky to have grown up with wonderful role models. My mum has always demonstrated that life is something that comes from you, not something that simply happens to you; with hard work you can achieve anything. And my Grampy has always been an advocate for the fact that you get out what you put in. They have both been eternal in their belief in me.

Like I said, lucky.

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You are what you are passionate about. And whatever that may be, it is enough.

LM

As I write this I have locked eyes with a squirrel that is sitting on my fence with an acorn in his mouth. I've asked him how his morning has been. Predictably, he has very little to say, to me that is, but one can infer he's had a good one, as if you were a squirrel, what could be better than acorns for breakfast?