There was a time when all I was was right brained – I lived to play the piano, danced and didn’t care who saw, wrote poetry well into the morning hours, believed in love, stripped down to underwear and ran and jumped into the sea, and thrived on meeting and connecting with new people.
And then I grew up. Or that’s what I was told happened. I began to analyze the shit out of everything, to pick apart the music for the inaccuracies, justify everything I did or wanted to do with evidence and reasons, calculate income less expenses in my head while walking my dogs in the morning. Getting things right became more important than being beautiful.
But now… I’m gonna regress a little and wallow in the gorgeousness of my childhood. I’m gonna spell stuff wrong, throw a tantrum here and there, wear big hats and dance in my comfortably round body and skip down the middle of the damn road thank you very much. I will drink in the morning, laugh when I sneeze, and stare at gorgeous paintings for hours barely breathing. I will clothe myself in colour, blast music until my car vibrates, speak with flowery words, and eat dessert first.
The right brain, the part of us that is being killed off by education and expectation, is where beauty lives. It is where the purpose of life exists. Time to reconnect.