Magic Bus / 2

Whilst all the chaos and mental turmoil of the Art Trail was taking place, a unique opportunity made itself known. Because I am the kind of person who has previously regretted saying certain things out loud until they actually come to fruition, we are not going to say exactly WHAT this opportunity entails until it is obvious that a) we were successful in being involved or b) we were not.

Interestingly, regardless of which of those outcomes becomes the reality, this opportunity will irrevocably alter my personal landscape. That has not happened for at least three years, maybe longer. The joy of this entire journey remains, at least where we are now, that all that’s needed to be done so far is organise other people. I’m simply the facilitator.

This week there is a meeting to take this process forward.

Someone I like, respect and trust in a professional capacity reminded me last week that when you put yourself forward to become a facilitator, it is vitally important that your own work does not suffer as a result. It’s never been more obvious to me than it is now that opportunity is NEVER what I originally decide it to be when it first drops into my lap. My ability to process possibilities becomes an issue.

This, like it or not, is because I remain a serial overthinker. It’s a trait that kept me awake for several hours last night, and it is one of the few things that is capable of succinctly derailing weeks and months of planning in short order. It’s why I am so very grateful to those friends who help contextualise certain decisions for me, and to my family who help put such moments into less emotional framing.

Saying it out loud absolutely diminishes its power over me, too.

What this means in real terms is that there could be an event next year I’m involved with. Or, I could not. I used to prefer what I thought were binary outcomes like this until my brain registered that they NEVER are. Winning a publishing contest, for instance, was a literal dream come true until it emerged that the publisher did not value my work in the same way I did.

All that is ever possible is my best under any particular circumstance. The level of that best will obviously vary. This morning I am very much conscious of how a lack of sleep and a long period of protracted effort can adversely affect it. Mental health is fickle too, and I would be lying to myself if I ignored its red flags that have been flying since the Collection came into being.

Today, I think we will let other people make the decisions and take it easy. We’ll use this heading to keep you up to date with ‘local poetry news’ going forward.