run away with your circus

One of the things I realize I've been enjoying the most about this whole process of producing 1700 words every morning and posting every day for 30 days, is the process of letting my mind go and my fingers follow.

I let the thread of my thoughts unspool.

Since I'm not writing a novel as part of National Novel Writing Month, but using the structure to just write, a lot, and see where it takes me, there's a delightful open-ended-ness about it all that can surprise me.

Which is what happened yesterday morning early, when I was writing about the process of writing so much, the exploration it affords.

I was remembering all of the things I've tried over the years, all of the challenges taken on, some completed, some abandoned, and how often I try new things, follow my interests.

I run away with my circus.

Here's an excerpt from yesterday's writing session, something I'm still working on. I'd love your feedback, so don't be shy. 

* * * * *

In my 30s, when my child was young, I tried a lot of new things, was always learning. I was still having a lot of trouble with the notion of joining anything. That was certainly the case with the apprenticeship to a witch in West Marin [ed: more on that separately]. I wasn’t comfortable as a part of that particular group, and so I snipped the ties that bound me to it and left.

I tried many things and also abandoned many, I passed through phases, some more quickly than others. From all of them, I gained something, even if sometimes it was just a quick toe-dip that communicated loudly Not That. I think it’s important to try things, to let your interests run away with you, to run away with your circus.

And here’s the thing about the circus. Once you’ve run away with it, it’s not all fun and games. Sure, there’s a fair amount of hanging out next to your trailer with the lion-tamer, the trapeze artist and the dwarf shooting the shit at the end of the day, passing around a bottle, but before that: it’s work. There’s rehearsal, there’s working with the animals, there’s cleaning. And lordy sometimes there’s packing up and taking the tent down, moving the show along down the road a spell. Maybe you’re only a ticket taker, but still.

Make no mistake: your circus is work.

But also your circus is you on the high-wire, at practice or in the spotlight, holding yourself aloft with an ease that you know is the sweet reward for all your consistent, repeated, devoted effort. Light as a feather, solid as a rock.

Your circus is work, but it’s also the applause you hear when you’ve done well, the swelling of your own heart in your own chest at a trick well-done, your head safely withdrawn from the lion’s great big mouth.

That feeling is what you want. OK, that feeling is what I want. Knowing that I am my circus, I am tending the elephants (kindly), I am ringleading the whole show in a tophat and tails, I am weaving a spectacle that I need to see and that I need to share with others. It’s great if others can experience this same wind in my hair as I let go of the trapeze, do a flip, and stick the landing. It’s great if others can murmur that same sound of deep relief and satisfaction at the conclusion of yet another successful performance.

The key is to let your interests run, unspool, go, to let your circus hit the road and follow it. It’ll go where it goes, and once arrived, then get ready to work.

Like everything, the circus loses a bit of its novelty, right, when you realize Oh, it’s not all cotton candy and bright lights all the time. That’s the smallest part of it. And getting there takes a lot, asks a lot of you.

But it’s your circus. You run the show. You decide. Are you staying in rehearsal forever or are you touring? How big, how bold, is your costume, is your act? Who’s in it? Spend some time to really see it, your circus, whatever form it takes for you. And then, go. Don’t ask too many questions. You don’t need to know how many pounds of feed the tigers need per day. You’ll find out.

The important thing when you’re running away with your circus is to, well, run away. Leave your planning behind. Trust. Run.