I nearly called this post “Transcendence.”
On Friday afternoon, I saw the viral video about the first year of Ward Miles’ life. Miles was a micro-preemie (born before 26 weeks) and his father surprised his mother with a truly inspired video that spanned his early first days until he barfed rainbow cake on his first birthday. My warnings are that you will cry. And that there is barf in this video. It’s really cute barf, though.
And I’m..not one to say that normally.
(Link to video HERE.)
And I’m not one to be speechless by everything I see, hear, watch or read.
There’s a certain magic, for lack of a better word, that propels us as writers and artists when our own lives are involved. And I imagine that it’s always involved, at least somewhat, even when we’re writing and/or creating fiction. We take from our own experiences, our own beauty, our own love, our own pain. I cannot imagine that there is a famous creator out there who takes nothing from his or her own personal experiences. It’s the more fired up that I am, that the desire to create matches that heat. The more in love, the more in pain, the more in stunned awe, the more in paralyzed fear, you can see it. You can see it here.
It’s how I better process it. It’s how I better process it and send it along. For your understanding. For my own.
On Friday night, we watched the movie “An Adventure in Space and Time” and I don’t want to speak for Cassidy, but that movie pretty much had me hiding under a blanket – wondering whether I should cry or be really happy at the serendipitous nature of art and how it comes to be and grow. So many near-misses. So many light-bulb moments. The movie is a history of the start of the “Doctor Who” series and let’s just say that David Bradley kills it playing the actor of the first doctor ever – William Hartnell.
On Saturday night, we watched the new “Doctor Who” 50th anniversary show and I was once again, for the third time in a row in two days, stunned by the mind-work that goes into building just one video or show. One show is made up of a world. And they took care to build it into mind-blowing proportions. It intimidates me..to see such amazing writing and imagery. It intimidates me but I can *almost* see the place where it’s coming from. I can almost reach it. Sometimes I do reach it, when I care enough. I understand how we create such love and loss from experience and imagination. It fuels the fire. We set it to stay alight.
We pray that it’s received. Understood. Taken in.
Not that I’m comparing myself to the filmmaker who made his baby’s first year into a movie. Nor am I comparing myself to the filmmaker(s) who took 50 years of Doctor Who love and made it into a non-fiction movie. I’m definitely not comparing myself to the talented makers of the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special. Yet I can see something in there that I’ve experienced before.
They care. They create with care. And they show it to you.
It’s something I strive for. I know I can write about my pain and photograph my love. Or write about my love and photograph my pain. I get that. I also get that there’s more. A lot more. And it’s an uphill battle I intend to fight, over and over again.
With more-than-occasional joyous joy.
And interruptions to play a little croquet with a princess.
And as long as no one steals your balls.. (dreams, fire, drive)
…you’re good to go.
And then I closed out the weekend watching Disney Junior’s “Sofia the First: Floating Palace” movie! Not…as inspired, really. Did anyone bawl when they wrote it? Did they channel their innermost demons and passions when they animated it? Was it made with blood, sweat and tears? Sleepless nights and nervous butterflies..scratch that..overly anxious hornets? Was it made with magic?
Hey, you never know. To my little four-year-old, nestled close to both of us on the couch, it certainly was.
Here’s a special kiss from Des to wish you a happy Monday morning. (if possible?) The photo is not recent (hair is more even these days) but the sentiment is recent. He just learned how to blow kisses over the weekend and it’s a pretty special thing.
So from Des to you.
From me to you…
…because I care.