Gotta get these out there… A Big Ideas Poop from my old Blue Suitcase Things Made Visible #1:365
I’m writing directly from inside an old blue, dusty suitcase. It is large, expandable and full. It stands teetering amongst others, all crammed with my best intention ne’er done ideas. So many old thoughts, ideas and dreams as unused as Miss Haversham’s wedding torso have been fermenting in old notebooks inside this pile of old suitcases for years.
I feel like a lost luggage attendant buried in an ideas suitcase graveyard and we all want to escape.
I’ve given birth to so many ideas. I’ve been so enthusiastic about them, talked about them, explored and researched them for days and weeks. They all came, looking longingly for me to pay them attention, to give them energy to fly. I’ve circled the tarmac round them all with the greatest excitement. ‘Dancing on line with Men’. ‘Jumping Madly’. ‘When I was I Felt’. ‘Care Made Visible’ ‘Fly Your Kite’. ‘The Dating Code’…….I could go on further down the list but you will see them soon.
They remain largely un-grown, except for some like Creative Warriors which at least got off the runway but is a whole story in itself. Some I believed at first I could make a million from haven’t made me a pound. I’ve been packing them away for years without even getting on the plane. I should have given them away rather than waste them. Put them up for auction on eBay with my vintage shoes or sold them on Gumtree.
I clung on tightly to the excitement of them but couldn’t get them going or let them go. I admit I have continually disappointed my muse. And therein lies my shame.
I have such a passion for new ideas. I am an ideas conduit and a weaver of them. A creative connector who can intertwine a web of disparate thoughts which come in my path into new ideas, even products through the art of making connections. Is that not a skill in itself? Must I be an entrepreneur as well? Does a doctor have to also be an architect and design the hospital? Having being a Research Fellow in Creative Entrepreneurship and taught it, I know that an idea is only an idea until you do something with it. But what if you have lots and lots of them?
They come thick and fast. I enjoy complicated strands of thoughts. The more of a variety of things to ponder about the merrier I am. It is like having a lot of television screens all on at the same time, and not being able to switch them off but jumping from one screen to the next and getting the gist of what could be if you put that bit with that bit until you have something excitingly new. When the muse drops one on you it is invigorating. When you have too many of them they are like a greedy pack of vampires sucking out your clarity. My good idea filter malfunctions and my creative and emotional energy dwindles. Upside, it feeds my creative engine. Downside, it gives me ideas indigestion.
This is more about what I haven’t done with them than what I have.
It was the sheer joy of conjuring the idea that gave me the pleasure. After the thrill of the thought, much work and many late nights, many of the ideas, notes and business plans from the now tatty and faded matchbox scribbles, are still not out in the open but hidden in old notebooks in my old blue suitcase.
Curiously and curiously I said like Alice in her own strange wonderland I wonder why these ideas appeared so big and full of promise and then shrink into nothing? Did my own fear led to them losing power? They now lie dormant and skulking inside the old blue suitcase. When I open the lid I feel that same thrill momentarily about them, followed by a pang of sadness and failure. I hurt. They hurt. I close it fast.
Last year I decluttered and emptied my home of junk and unused trinkets in an attempt to detox and clear my living space, now it’s time to do the same to the ideas archives I have accumulated in the big blue suitcase above my wardrobe.
So I got to thinking, maybe the right and only thing left to do with my ideas is to write about them. In revealing them, I can explore their stickiness, their ups and downs, their blueprint and share with you some of my matchbox scribbles and map my own difficulties in why they never came to life.
What I need is a big ideas poop. I am going to bring them out one by one for viewing. Write about them. Make them visible. I am going to explore myself by revealing them to you. Explore and unpick the fear. Jump out of the plane. Breathe some fresh life into them. See where it takes me as anywhere is better than living in an ideas graveyard.
Letting them out will be a BIG challenge after having kept them in for so long. Some may not want to come out of the case to have anything to do with me anymore and I wouldn’t blame them. I may not be able to let them out in their embryonic state for fear of making a fool of myself. Maybe they were all really bad ideas. Maybe you will laugh. Maybe I will never make it past 3 of 365. It feels risky without knowing the direction of the wind or outcome. I don’t feel comfortable posting my innermost secrets. Youngsters are bought up in a world of uploading their own thoughts and images in a continuous stream in a virtual space where they are peer reviewed by their friends in a nice, bad or downright cruel manner as the norm. I need to lighten my load from too many years doing exactly the opposite. I want to understand why it feels so uncomfortable (for me) putting those matchbox scribbles of ideas on the social media table.
It’s not that I don’t write, more that I hide my own words (but not the words of others) behind the shadows of files in my computer drive without ever pressing send. I have written and published academically. I write web page content for others. I can edit and carve other peoples writing into a perfectly correct written piece of work. I am quite good at that. But thats different. That’s weaving other people’s thoughts into a tapestry. It’s structured, it has to be grammatically correct and beyond with its own rigid referencing style that I have learnt to mimic. It doesn’t allow for you to go into free fall with your thoughts and capture that narrative that chats away to me in my head like a continuous radio being on. Sally FM. So I want to make my own tapestry made up of bits of me.
I need to stop hiding my ideas (and maybe me) by me from the world. I need a way out of that fog and clear my own. I am an eternal student, soaking other peoples thoughts, philosophies, their books, their words, their quotes and Ted Talks. I need to stop reading and get to a place where other people might read mine. I am old enough and lived enough to know enough to have something to say. Unlearn what I have learnt and learn new ways to use my own voice. Emeli Sande sings it perfectly in her song Read All About It. I have got the words but I am biting my tongue as I am afraid I will say something wrong. I am going to scream till the words dry out. Her words make me cry — proof it is touching something delicate within. A whole other me, waiting to talk from a place within.
Out and be damned then. 2017 is my flush them and me out year. 364 more posts and I will be done.
Whatever happens, rain or shine I commit to sharing my ideas and thoughts daily even if it’s only a word on a bad day. And there will be bad days I assure you because if there weren’t I would be here needing to charm the ideas fairies at the bottom of the garden to give me the confidence to post. I am already behind and need to catch up as I have lost 8 days of posts as I have vacillating about how to do it, should I do it, how should I do it? Two whole days of editing and changing my sentences. I need to speed up and not care so much what people think. In order to pursue it I need to JBDI. Just Bloody Well Do It. Just grind these posts out regardless of how poor I think they are. Stop editing them a hundred times. Let you point out the mistakes and how to make it better. I will improve along the journey and hopefully I will grow too.
In the process of revealing my ideas there is another danger, that new ones will come regularly to join in, confuse and tease me with their novelty, but I will try to start with the originals, the ones I packed away in those old suitcases over the years.
So I will share with you my journey here because ideas aside, sharing is my bigger problem. What I sense here is that there maybe more than a little rust on my personal social media moat lock that needs to be oiled and I need you in the ring.
It’s flush them all out of me time. A big huge ideas poop. Only 364 more idea posts (or poops) to go.
And with a pile of empty suitcases what then? Lighter I will go from there.
After all, there will be more ideas coming. They arrive daily anyway. It’s just what I am going to do with all the new ones that worries me.