The Importance of Small Steps
Go On A Walk With A Friend Named Lidia
If you are a regular or if you have landed on Tarantula: Authors and Art for the very first time, the beginning of the month is time for a little reflection! Our contributor, Maja Milanovic , a curious scribbler and truth seeker, hopes to inspire you to take a small step towards your dreams, let it be messy! If a friend forwarded you this article, welcome; if you like it, share it or why not subscribe?
“Small steps,”
my friend Lidia wisely advised as we rushed through the beautifully adorned autumn forest. The red and yellow leaves covering the ground and twirling with the wind in the air made me wonder how can death be so beautiful. Walking with a dear friend while the cyclical nature of life fully on display came as a much needed comfort. This is definitely not a time for perfection.
The deadline was coming up for this article, ideas whirl-pooled in my head, but my body deserted me. I couldn’t execute, I just couldn’t drag myself to come to the computer and write. This new procrastination was fuelled by the thought that everything is meaningless. At times, I thought I was losing my mind. Time to create was replaced by a surge of questions: What is really important in life? Is life important?
“You are still grieving.”
Lidia declared.
Almost two months after my father’s death, I try to act normal. I smile, I chit chat, take on my usual roles, but I mostly try to avoid any emotions that so unexpectedly arrive. After all, time is all we have, right? So the most normal thing for me would be just to move on. Then why do I feel compelled to sit in front of the TV and watch excellent comedies instead of writing a short film, which has been on my mind since the short story I wrote after our chocolate tasting experiment. Or creating an intimate literary salon in my living room for members only, an idea that waited for the post corona world to arrive. Or writing a short story whose title “The Temp Worker’s Love Story” I have been carrying in my head for some time or …
“You are still grieving. Small steps.” Lidia’s words echo! I question whose idea of success am I trying to live up to anyway? Why does one have to perform at all times? Then rush in the inner critics: you are lucky and privileged, and lucky to have all that time to dream. So why don’t you get off your ass and create! Time is the only thing we have. Until we don’t have it.
Whoa! Wait! Let me first, get out of my head, lick my wounds, flex my toes and make the smallest step forward towards:
A word.
An image.
A sound.
Idea.
Silence.
A small moment of joy.
And hold onto it like holding onto dear life. Instead of thinking of the final piece, let me start from the beginning and let this tiny step lead me to an end goal. Write one word, see if anything follows.
Yes! I hear Lidia’s imaginary cheers.
A commitment to a line a day. Next week, two lines a day.
Exactly that! she doesn’t leave me alone even though we left the forest three days ago. She takes over my brain:
If the system breaks down, breathe, watch a new episode of “Atlanta” on TV, wiggle, dance and shake it off. If the wave of tears comes make sure it overflows you. Then try again, a word, a line. Become softer and gentler to self and others.
I listen. This sounds like a good recipe for survival right now.
When she talked about her own artistic process, our featured artist of the month Eva Hild said that she starts with just a small coil. She treats it for a while and then lets the invisible thread lead her to the coils extensions, letting it shape shift and be fluid until the final result. Some of her masterpieces take 8 months, others 10 years to completion. Life interrupts art. 10 years ago Eva broke her breast bone. Someone who does huge heavy sculptures, she could’ve given up on creating for a while. However, she chose to metamorphosize into a new artist and give it a try by laying on the floor. What she produced instead of her known big sculptures were smaller and flatter shapes that were just as impressive. And for Eva, her effort as well as struggle while she healed her body came to fruition last month in a shape of a beautiful exhibition.
That exhibition was my very needed first little step into the world after my father’s funeral. These days going out and mixing with the living is like a solo dance of tango, two steps forward, a few back …. Unfortunately, no one can really hold my hand to lead me. Clumsy steps, miserable steps. Like Eva’s pieces, filled with holes and ruptures in the material, I am learning to embrace all my currently broken pieces and accept them as part of the whole.
“Why does everything have to be so perfect?” comes out from the mouth of another teacher of mine, in the shape of my nine year old son, after I asked him to resign a birthday card because he did so sloppily. Instead, I understood that if I remain open lessons come. Let it be messy.
So if you are experiencing grief, or are stuck and uninspired like I am, or afraid that something won’t be “perfect,” don’t let yourself be overwhelmed. Show up for yourself or a friend like Lidia did for me in the forest, while thinking that I am on the walk to support her. Nothing was solved, but for a few moments, we felt safe and supported. Time was on our side. To let our walls down. Then we made the first step.
And another small step, and yet another step, which turned into a word after word, line after another until we arrived at the end. I did it!
Thank you for reading. Thank you, dear Lidia for the walk!
Is there a project that you are avoiding to start? Maybe together, we can make small steps to achieving our goals. For the next couple of weeks, let’s check in on each other at the beginning of each week, make small daily steps inspired by prompts that I would send weekly. Let me know if you want to join in the challenge.
DOGGY NEWS
Wolfie, the doggy, the hero of his own Dog Chronicle’s that I have been writing every first week of the month since the beginning of this year just turned one! That naturally means that in doggy years he became a teenager. And as every normal teen, he just became a bit more shy, less communicative and not interested to be a star of this magazine. So for now, we will retire writing from a point of view of a dog for this publication.
However, if you think that you would miss him or wouldn’t want to miss his crazy teens, send me a message. I might consider starting a Dog Chronicle as a separate newsletter.
❤️❤️❤️
Absolutely beautiful