left click

most times we left-click it’s routine, part of a process: editing, deleting, completing a form, maneuvering around the internet.

but every so often we pause before we click, take a deep breath, check with ourself to make sure we’re sure . . . and only then do we click and send our commitment on its way.

yesterday morning I had one of those experiences. today: no regret, no excessive excitement. just a contentedness. I did it. and now, what will be will be.

residencies are a thing that exist in the world of creative arts. time away from home/school/employment, often in a more rural or natural setting, with space and unscheduled opportunity to embrace whatever creative pursuit one has been awarded the time to embrace. some residencies include meals, some include gathering with other resident artists, all include–at a minimum–a place to sleep and work.

popular and often prestigious, all require a formal application. vitals, CV, proposed project, samples of one’s work, references. proper grammar. capitals and periods.

I’ve completed two of these applications in the past ten weeks: one with time slots this coming spring, and the other, next fall.

in 2015 I applied for a residency and crossed my fingers, hoped, worked to let it go . . . when I received word that I’d been awarded a two-week slot as artist in residence, I was shocked.

this time? radical acceptance: I gave my best to the applications, and what will be will be. I actually have tried to keep the goal forefront, but find myself just letting go and moving into that let it be place.

which isn’t to say I don’t want to be awarded a residency. I just am less attached to outcomes in my writing career these days. the writing world in its current form is subjective, confused, and nothing I can predict or control. a “yes” is an amazing gift, a “no” is just that my proposal didn’t click with those in power. I can’t let that stop me from doing me.

so I may be in northern cal this spring, or I may be in oregon next fall. or I may be here typing away on my computer in my own lovely office. or I might create my own residency somewhere, find a space in a place that suits me.

it’s possible I finally have a sense of how to keep moving along with my river, noting spots I’d like to visit, but not becoming anxious when the current doesn’t seem to be within my power . . . trusting that my little raft will take me where I am supposed to go.