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Dear Smart-er,

“In order to have what you really want, you must first be who you really are.” ~ Tim S. Grover, Relentless

I feel embarrassed. Everything I’m doing, working on and towards, feels audacious. Like, how dare I? Like, aren’t I too old, or too young, or too middle-aged? Like, didn’t I get kicked out of college? And, didn’t I feel excited that I wasn’t going back to that place, or any place like it? Maybe because my dreams are audacious and my method unconventional, I’m the only one who can get it done?

You can ask me what I’m doing. You can try to get me to tell you something about my process, or my goals, or any sort of plan I could possibly consider, but I won’t tell you anything.

You know when you start a campfire, and the beginning flame is just with kindling, and it needs to catch on something that burns longer, like a log? You know how anything can kill the flame — dust, wind, the logs collapsing? You know how you’re practically hugging it, trying to protect it from any element? That’s where I’m at.

When a campfire is burning, everyone knows. When the logs have fully succumbed to their ashy destiny, chairs are brought closer, and sticks, with marshmallows and hot dogs, are held over it.

Would you ask someone who wants to be a parent how they’re going to reach that goal? They know they need a partner parent. They’re going to be as open to meeting people as they can. They’re going to act as loving and lovable as they can, as partner-ing and partner-able as they can.

But the result, the actual moment when they are holding their baby, is something best reflected as a daydream, not as a scheduled plan.

I do have a plan, but I’m afraid to write it down. I don’t want to make it solid, lest it crumble. I do have goals, but I can’t speak them out loud. They might intimidate me, and I don’t want to hide from my own goals. I do have dreams, but they’re like bubbles or photons. If I share them, they might blow away or rush past me, out of reach forever.

You’ve told me what you want. I feel honored that you shared it with me, but I hope you change your mind. I see you as an infinite spark, like a portal. You’re so smart and so resilient. I want you to dream bigger.

My dreams are bigger than I deserve, yours are smaller than you deserve. Mine would frustrate my family, yours gives them pride. Mine reject everything I’m supposed to do, yours go above and beyond your duty.

If you laugh, call me crazy, tell me I’m wrong, or if you say good, go for it, I would freeze up. No matter what your response, I’d let the the plan, vision, inspiration, spin and spin until, like water at a drain, it was gone. I can’t have feedback, at least not yet. When I am ready for feedback, you’ll be the first to know.

Love, Scared-er

***

Christy Kirsch lives in California, and doesn’t mind if you judge her. When she’s cranky, time in the garden with her strawberries, chocolate mint and poblano chilies usually sets her straight, so does a swim in the Pacific Ocean. She has some short-short stories at Magic Theatre.

***

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