Sometimes we just need to put out the chalk board.

A little cup of coloured chalk on a rustic wood shelf.

Hey Lovely.

I was so stressed out before our community bonfire. I planned, I changed plans, I delegated, sometimes well and sometimes badly. I ran a survey, considered ice breakers, changed my mind a thousand times.

In the end, I just showed up, and it was the sweetest thing.

I forget that we’re all creating the world as we move through it. People tended the fire, found the marshmallows, laughed at each other’s jokes. People brought adorable dogs and signs, chalk and kindling, wonder, curiosity, willingness. It was imperfect, sweet and just right.

Plans promise us that order is possible. But community, like art, like the future, like all kicking, beautiful, chaotic forces that give our life texture and breath, pushes them away over and over.

Like this part — I had a bunch of ideas for collective poetry games. I asked my neighbours for an easel, found one, picked it up, lumbered it home, couldn’t decide whether to use the chalk board side or the white board side, brought materials for both, set it up… and completely forgot about it.

Partway through the evening, I noticed in my peripherals that someone was writing on it. It was the one person I was nervous about, a guy who had been playing frisbee golf in the area and wandered over with his friend. Loud voice, a little unpredictable. I saw his hand moving up and down as he spelled words out on the chalk board.

He was writing: LOVE IS EVERYWHERE.

See?

Sometimes we just need to step back.

Alright, big heart.

Sometimes creative work needs a lot. Detailed feedback, group process, conversations about craft… All writers have those hungers.

But sometimes it just needs an empty chalk board to say now, here, show me the words that matter.

In it with you,