All the Feels

It’s Sunday, mid-day on a cold, rainy London afternoon. I’m sitting in an old armchair, sipping tea, peering into the street and I’m overcome with all the feels: joy, resilience, blessings, friendship, authenticity, growth, abundance, savoring.

This morning I took some time for myself to stroll the leaf-covered, cobblestone streets of Chelsea Mews and happened upon all the things that make me warm: cafes, bookstores, health food stores, outdoor markets, pastry shops, bars. I’ve written all day. I’ve tackled some hard things. I’ve done some reading. Some research. I’ve put the skeleton of my book project together. I’ve reconnected with another warm soul, which brings me backs to blessings. I’ve found myself in a gorgeous flat with an endless supply of tea candles. It doesn’t get much better.

In the last few years, more often that any other time in my life, I find myself living more in the moment and appreciating that which I’m so lucky for. Mostly people. Mostly experiences. And most of all, the freedom to be me. The freedom to be traversing this life alone, and yet not so alone.

Just like The Lady in Comus which we saw at Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, a small theater where performances happen under candlelight, I make no apologies for my own freedom. I make no apologies for carving my own path. For learning to say no. For taking time to assess. I will not be any man’s (or anyone’s) toy or piece of clay to mold. “Beauty is nature’s brag” after all.  This trip was a reward in my mind, yet I had no idea just how rewarding it would be.

I’ve embraced spontaneity and ditching the schedule. I’ve embraced knowing that when the words come we pay attention and when they don’t we don’t try so hard to chase them. Mostly, I’ve realized – thanks to a late-night chat with Hananah Banana- that sometimes the people that make the biggest impacts in our life are the people that can’t answer all the questions about us. And there’s beauty in that.

I’m blessed with an amazing network of family and friends. And I’m blessed with writer friends-which are slightly different. They are among the most authentic friendships I have. My writer friends can’t tell you my middle name, my favorite color, or the details of my day-to-day life, but what they can tell you is that they float in and out with ease and they genuinely know me. There’s a certain kinship and vulnerability in this lifestyle that yields compassion, and I’m grateful for my tribe (you know who you are). We’ve been to war together.

So, as the rain taps the balcony outside, I’m going to disappear into more poems. More tea. Then wine. I’m going to shut the rest of the world out. And take a moment to savor.

Advertisements

About carrieaddington

Poetry. Hair. Heart. More Poetry. View all posts by carrieaddington

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Jeffrey Levine

poetry, publishing, and mentoring

Thought Catalog

Thought Catalog is a digital youth culture magazine dedicated to your stories and ideas.

Wild, Wonderful Lost River Valley, WV

A project of Friends of Lost River Valley

Write Despite

The write-20-minutes-a-day-for-365-days-come-hell-or-high-water challenge

%d bloggers like this: