Why This Post Is A Blank Page
This Possums post’s beautifully powerful idea is best read in a quiet moment. It contains life changing potential. But it needs reflection. Ready? Here’s that idea.
I never was a huge Bruce Springsteen fan. Recently I have come to better appreciate his genius and insight. No more so than this snippet of video I saw of his one-man stage show that’s just kicked off on Broadway. It completely floored me, this idea. Here are Bruce’s words:
“The world you’ve gotten used to, that you love and that you hate.
And your life laying before you, like a blank page.
It is THE one thing I miss about getting older…….
…. “The beauty of that blank page.”
My life today contains very few blank pages. Just too many responsibilities, commitments, expectations, duty, obligation. It’s hard to see the possibilities, or to have moments of freedom. You too?
Not that I am complaining. I’m not. I feel so fortunate for all I have, to love and be loved, and to have the opportunity to live the ‘crowded hour’ in my little corner of my little world.
But Bruce’s insight did stop me. The beauty of that blank page.
One of my very few regrets in life so far is that I have never travelled without knowing when I was leaving. I never did the backpacker thing. ‘Oh nice beach…I’ll stay a week, or maybe two.’ That to me is the classic ‘blank page.’
We all need ‘blank page’ moments in our lives, particularly as we get busier, older, and stuff just gets more complex. It’s the opportunity to imagine. To flirt with fantasy. To dream. And then, to give it a go. Even in little steps.
I’ve made a start by thinking of certain moments in my schedule as ‘mini blank pages.’
When I jog (I was going to write ‘run’ but given my pace, jog is a better word). Every jog provides a canvas for imagination. It’s a blank page where I can chose to devote my imaginative energies to freedom and fantasy.
When I visit Melbourne. I block out three hours for me. The Siglio Bar. A steak. Italian red wine. A note book. Sharp pencil. Imagination. And scribbling.
When I sit down to write Possums. Yes, literally a blank page. But figuratively too, because the hour I write is an hour of total escape and indulgence in a thought or a feeling inside me. And it always helps me to grow a little.
It’s fun to think about blank pages. If I had a blank page right now, where would I live? What would I do every day? What would I study? What career would I follow? Who would I spend my time with? What would I do for the next five years?
If we can spend more time imagining blank page decisions and direction, we can perhaps start to weave some of those deeply personal insights into our realities, and our every days.
I’m not sure if this makes any sense at all. It does to me. Basically, I want my cake, and to eat it. I want my life. But I so badly want that blank page too. Or at least to have an on-going affair with it.
What would you fill your blank page with right now?