In Authenticity

 In authenticity. 

It's been a while since I picked up a work of art that has inspired my authentic writer's voice to re-emerge. Where was it? I wonder as I hear it talking in my mind once again after a long silence. Not only my writer's voice has re-emerged, but also, my desire to paint my inspiration. 

Of all places, the inspiration comes from a book for 8-12 year olds. Not only the book, but the sequence of events surrounding the book has lit that flame inside of me that I forgot existed in the busy life we are living. Being in the presence of phenomenal teachers, innovative students, surrounded by the support of family, friends and advisors. Immersed in a constant reminder of how incredibly fortunate we are, I find myself, once again.

My writers voice doesn't really have a place in the world anymore, I started to examine, because of all of the innovative new discoveries and excellent sources of information available to us now. Until I heard the authentic voices of those around me. Oh, I get it now. Maybe I'll jot down a few thoughts. 

Maybe I'll paint my desire to run. To hear nothing but my footsteps on the dirt path. 

Am I really meant to be a teacher? I examine my life path. 

The teacher explains the forces of a roller coaster and I think about the ride I created and how unfinished it remains. A part of me cries to myself because I'm inspired to continue. Where is that voice inside of me? Maybe it died. 

And what about the one that created a new educational path? In hiding? Probably. 

It's not really authentic enough, she said. Well, last time I made it authentic, I didn't pass. I replied. And that was that. Inauthenticity and in authenticity. I suppose that's where we find our balance.