I’m starting something.
By Leora Katz
Hi everyone. This is me announcing my project because now I have no choice but to follow through. I’ve had this idea for months and have hesitated to move forward, mainly because of the always handy excuse of “time” and the debilitating inner-reality of “fear.” (More on that later.)
But then I read something, and it knocked the wind out of me. I read it and re-read it and said it out loud and read it to Dave and it so perfectly explained how I felt that I knew there was no turning back. I read:
“The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.”
- Mary Oliver
Whew!
In case you’re like me and don’t know exactly what “restive” means, don’t fret — I looked it up for both of us. Restive means:
“Unable to keep still or silent and becoming increasingly difficult to control, especially because of impatience, dissatisfaction, or boredom.”
Well, that is me. And if that doesn’t sound like a good feeling, I can assure you — it is not.
Once I read that, I knew there was no turning back. I knew I had no choice but to give power and time to something I’ve known deep inside for ages.
I am a creative person and have been my whole life. Growing up without TV, I spent countless hours as a child lost in imagined worlds. My bike was a horse. The bathroom at the top of the stairs was a cave atop a mountain. You should have seen the family of fairies who lived in my bedroom closet, the notebooks filled with every detail of their fairy lives.
Long after we were sent to bed, my sister and I would lie in our room whispering the intricacies of costumes as we designed them in our heads. That one was called “the costume game,” and I assure you, there were more.
I took colouring books extremely seriously. I always had a diary. I made up plays, games, and dances every, single week. Ask anyone who grew up at the Katz household, and they will confirm they were actors, contributors, co-writers, and dancers in these performances.
I went above and beyond on every school project I was ever assigned, drawing pictures, making plasticine images, cutting and pasting, dyeing pages with watercolours, agonizing over font choices, finding the most perfect word in dictionaries and thesauruses. No detail was too small. I would keep going and keep going — long after everyone else would stop — perfectly focused until it all came together. Then, on to the next one.
And when I think about that person it’s with a sad sense of longing because it’s me, but it’s not really. You see you grow up and you lose touch with that. You care about friends, boys, popularity. Sex, body image, money. Eventually, your career, your finances, the next step you’re expected to make.
If I knew then what I know now, I may have pursued a career in something more creative. But it didn’t seem like a real choice at the time. Perhaps more importantly, I never had the confidence that I was good enough. There was always a better dancer. A better poet. A better painter, singer, actor. Someone who it came to more naturally, who didn’t have to try as hard.
But that harsh self-judgment was unfair. I simply didn’t know enough. There is not one way to art. And there is surely not one artist who feels what they’re doing is perfect, or ever complete.
It was a couple years ago when I recognized something was missing and began an introspective dive. Part of that dive may seem obvious, but I challenged myself to admit what I’ve always known deep down: what makes me happy?
I quickly realized there are two things I do that engulf me, turn off my mind, cause me to lose all sense of time.
One is seeing live music.
And the other is creating.
In both those situations, I am content. I am happy. I know I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.
But even after making this recognition, I continued to ignore the “creating” bit, to push it aside. And now I feel restive. And it doesn’t feel good.
So why didn’t I commit to this sooner?
I mentioned earlier that “time” and “fear” were my blockers. But we all know “time” is the oldest excuse in the books, that “time” can always be found. “Fear,” on the other hand, “fear” is a mighty beast.
What has driven my fear? I’ve contemplated this excessively.
My fear is rooted in the assumption that my voice does not need to be heard. I am an educated white girl from an incredible family living in one of the best cities in the world with a good job, a fantastic husband and great friends.
Does the world really need another one of me spewing her perspective on the internet? Similarly, does the internet really need more content?
The answer to both questions is a hard “no”. I recognize that.
The world does not need my voice, the internet does not need my content. But you know who needs it?
Me.
And with that, I introduce you to an experimental creative project.
It’s a newsletter which I plan to email to even just one person (thanks mom!) about once a month. It will be a collection of things I’ve stumbled upon, written or created that made me stop, think or smile.
It’s a newsletter for those who try to notice life.
It’s called Hi Let’s Life.
And if you’re curious to follow along, I would love, love to have you.
