In Bird By Bird, Anne Lamott writes of the little assistant that lives inside a writer’s mind, or dwells deep down in one’s gut:
There in your unconscious, where the real creation goes on, is that little kid or the Dr. Seuss creature in the cellar, arranging and stitching things together.
Her words resonate with me as I use my post-flu recovery downtime to brainstorm my current projects and outline a new set of goals for the coming year. Goals, or dreams? I have projects that seem too ambitious but in setting the bar higher I believe I am giving myself permission to feed the strange creature in the cellar, the one arranging and stitching things together, the one keeping me up with all sorts of crazy Nyquil-induced ideas until the early hours of the morning.
This will be a brief post. I’m still groggy and tired and my thoughts are all-a-swirl. But this much is clear: Our dreams, our creations—arranged and stitched together in the dark cellar of our unconscious—are an extension of who we are and who we hope to become. But commitment—to a goal, to a place, to a person—is what separates a dream from reality.
I’m looking forward to re-committing myself to this blog and to the many projects I initiated last year. I’m committing to working on culturally potent projects with the primary purpose of strengthening a sense of Portuguese-North American identity. I’m committing to writing about cultural identity and psycho-geography while exploring my deep interest in Portuguese literature. I’m committing myself in order to commit you. To your dreams. Honor your creature in the cellar.