In my dream I was hurtling through space in a craft experiencing a heightened sense of what I usually experiece in an airplane hinged on the question, “how the hell does this thing stay up in the air.” I think it most relates to a recent flight I took in Belize in a very small plane with a pilot like a Sumo wrestler. Every time he shifted his weight which he did every thirty seconds the plane would make this jolt to one side. But back to the spacecraft. I kept watching the controls. And it was such a lonely feeling being up there, just zooming through space. You couldn’t even look at the window it was just a blur, which doesn’t make sense, but none of this does. I kept wondering why we hadn’t, or why we wouldn’t end up hitting, an asteroid or something. How can we chart every object? And the craft was surely small.
I suppose, with the projects I create, I do feel like I’m hurtling forward, and, at times, out of control which isn’t the funnest of feelings. I have to work very hard to ground myself or at least to not feel as if the projects are flying me instead of me it. Funny how on the days you least expect it you can get some pretty grand ideas. Now, truth be told, as a Libra, I get a thousand great ideas a week, a good number of them surely worthy of some life pursuite, whether what shop should open locally, to what screenplay would make a great film. But I’m only one person with one lifetime.
My best ideas come when I walk away. Which, when you live near one of the world’s most beautiful beaches, a heady expanse of sand and sea, particularly at low tide, the two mile walk in that setting is certainly conducive. Walking away, trying to shake out the tension of mounting work, though, ironically, always inspires more projects to put on some grand plate in the multi-course banquet of creative ideas.
Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
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