Dear Wide Open Writers,
While on the beach today a gust of wind lifted one of those gigantic pink flamingo floats up into the air and deposited it on the water's surface, just beyond reach. The entire beach stopped to watch the big pink bird twirl like a ballerina, dancing quickly across the makeshift water stage before us. The flamingo glided quickly across the surface; complicit and maybe even gleeful in the escape.
Among the people watching, there was a collective and felt moment of, "Now what?"
I was further along on the beach, down wind. Hating the thought of more plastic in the sea, I calculated my chances of recovering the float. If I acted right then, making my way quickly across the rocks stones and pebbles to charge my way into the cold English Channel, I probably could have caught it and returned it to the squealing child. I envisioned myself doing just that but didn't move an inch. Instead, I watched as a woman photographed the float, seemingly entertained. There I was, distraught, paralyzed about what to do, while she was accepting there was nothing that could be done. Maybe she figured she'd at least get a good Instagram shot out of it.
By the time I completed my thoughts, the float was too far gone to be recovered. It cartwheeled into the distance. I watched it long after everyone else had gone back to their regularly scheduled beach life. As it grew smaller, I felt a slight sense of guilt and regret. I wished I had acted when I'd had the chance. Instead, all I could do was watch it until it became a tiny pink speck on the horizon before it finally vanished.
This scene feels like a metaphor suited for so many things, especially right now with mayhem and mistrust going on in the world. We’ve heard this, by now, ad nauseum and it's true: as writers and artists, more than ever, we must seize the moment and take action while we have the chance. It is in creating that we do our part, in writing that we contribute.
I will admit that it has been difficult to find the energy to carry on writing when everything feels like it's tumbling farther and farther into a distance beyond reach. I will admit that I haven't felt much at all like writing and so, well, I will admit, I haven't. Not much. But feeling that guilt and regret today was enough to shake me into remembering myself and my place. From where we are, hard as it is, we can and we must do something. We have to take action. Resist through writing.
Will you join us? Feel free to respond to this blog and tell us what you're writing.
Regina and Dulcie
Dear Wide Open Writers,