borrowed words.

Molly over at Orangette is in the process of opening a restaurant with her husband. Her and I are rowing side by side right now, my boat not so large or complicated, but still traveling through the same river of uncertain corners, sharp rocks that cause one to stall, and currents that constantly challenge one to either fight against them or to give in, simply getting pulled along by the forces of nature. I haven't written much about the process here, for a variety of reasons I suppose. For one, I'm tired. Two, I kind of like to keep this space open for creative energy and breaks from the days of trudging through. Three, things are uncertain and I learned a long time ago that is is best to keep your mouth shut until you actually have something to say. Four, it's hard to explain. I start talking about the process and it seems to come off like complaining, which by god, I am so NOT complaining. I'm overjoyed.. but the brain just keeps on processing and my days to celebrate have yet to arrive. Right now I just gratefully work. Our time is now. This very moment. This is where we dig in, and enjoy the process. The experience. This life.

But hey, what I wanted to tell you is that Molly summed up the feelings pretty damn well, so here are her words. They feel like mine, but I'm just borrowing them today, grateful that she knows just how to say it.

"It feels good. It feels good to be caught up in its momentum, pulled along by something so tangible and so big. But it also feels like diving into a murky pool, enormous and very deep, and I can’t see a damned thing. I know I have to jump in, and I want to jump in, but let me tell you, it is dark down there. I hope that doesn’t sound too depressing, because I don’t mean it that way. What I mean is that it’s consuming. It’s complete immersion. We move by feeling our way. And sometimes, every now and then, I get a glimpse of what it will look like in the end, when it’s finished and open and full of noise and food and fire in the oven, and it makes me so proud and so excited that I don’t know whether to grin, or sob, or both. And the afterglow of that lights the way through the muck for a while, until I get a glimpse again."