A Different Kind of Serious

My friends from school would say I was a bit of a jokester in class. I took things somewhat seriously, but not that seriously. Not really. I passed all my classes, never got in trouble, but still found ways to make light of situations whenever I could. I liked making people laugh.

I always felt we were better versions of ourselves when we didn’t take ourselves too seriously.

Today, I sometimes feel that same pull to make light of a situation because I can’t quite cope with its weight. In my 40s, though, I’m wiser about when and how. But the pull is still there.

The past two writing days felt different somehow. At first, I thought it was because I was on vacation, away from my routine, and weirdly having a hard time choosing one quick moment.

During this entire month, slicing felt so refreshing, so spontaneous, so free-flowing. It felt easier, more genuine, and way less stressful. Words found me on the screen, and we played together day after day.

I felt very trickster, as Liz Gilbert describes: fooling around with ideas, not taking things too seriously, but taking this act of self-love very, very seriously. Writing felt like an extension of my thinking. And because I had started the year with a consistent routine, the increase only gave me a rush of adrenaline.

All my slices this month felt like toys. Fun. Fresh. Free. But the last two came from a different place. Literally, but also not. Hah.

I guess when you’ve been commuting with your creativity for a while, tending to it and paying it the attention it deserves, something within you can start to bubble up. And I must say, I’m not surprised. I think this story has been waiting for me.

I had no agenda going into this challenge for the third time. I was excited to slice alongside so many others, eager to see how the experience would unfold for them, and just thrilled to use part of my day to sit down with my words.

When one has no agenda, one must be ready to embrace whatever comes.

My commitment to writing has produced something I should now pay attention to. A story that has been waiting for me to say yes. An idea that cares very little about the what-ifs.

In school, I was a jokester because I didn’t think things mattered that much.

Maybe now, I need to return to some version of that—

to hold things lightly,

not because they don’t matter,

but because they do.

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Thank you, with all my heart, to the Two Writing Teachers team for hosting this challenge year after year, and building this incredibly supportive community where I’ve found so many people who inspire me deeply. To my colleagues who accepted my invitation, who sliced for one, three, nine, twenty, or thirty-one days, congratulations on making the effort!

Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’ll be seeing you!