I’m incredibly fortunate in ways I’m almost embarrassed to enumerate. I have my struggles too, and I usually talk about those because I think it’s empowering to share—to know we have a common humanity and can overcome the difficulties inherent in being human. But I’m constantly reminded of my fortune by the things I *don’t* have to worry about.
Healthcare isn’t a worry—when my son at college has a mysterious ailment, he can see all the doctors he needs. Funding college itself isn’t a concern—my business has given us all we need (and then some) to make sure my three boys can go to the best college they can get into, regardless of cost. Finding purpose and meaning in work/play—both for me and my kids—is something we all have the luxury of because we’re not struggling to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. All those are measures of affluence (and the added bonus of not having to worry about being denied access due to the color of my skin)—and I worry about the effect of having *so many* people in my country (and the world) who do not have that good fortune. Concern about that drives my activism and my art—the two having become even more entwined in the last year.
This weekend, I get to do something that’s ordinary for me but would be out of reach for so many—take a writing retreat. I’m running away, holing up in a hotel, and focusing 24/7 on my art. I have the luxury of doing this due to an abundance of means and family support, but it’s also a choice—having these gifts, I’m determined to make the most of them. Often I think what holds writers back is not the pressures of the world but the pressure inside our heads (and the idea that the two are inseparable). We don’t *allow* ourselves to enjoy our gifts, whether they’re measured in dollars or access or connection with our fellow beings on the planet.
So my wish for you, as I run off, is that you’ll give yourself that gift—put down the burdens of the world, embrace your art for a while, and live like you’ve got no time to waste.
Because none of us do.
Peace and Joy,
Sue