Januaries are so quiet, so contemplative, so still like the sparkling topsoil in the fields, the glittering crystals perched on every skeletal plant of yesteryear.

The feeling of the void, of nothingness and everythingness both at the same time permeate me with warm sunshine through tinted glass.

A time of inner conversations, a time of germination, I’m relishing in the fact that I am nobody.

Pursuing any creative endeavor for the sake of making a living always brings with it the necessity to make oneself into somebody. To be honest, I’ve been lost in trying to make myself somebody that I forgot that I am nobody, and desire to keep it that way.

If I set aside the desire to be somebody, will I in fact be a nobody with my art? If I let that go, will my art and writing make it to other people?

Trying to be a somebody had me doing things that pissed me off. Posting on social media. Making new social media accounts. Joining new platforms because some groups boycott the main platforms. Joining new platforms and finding them to be shit. Engaging, engaging, engaging to grow an “audience” but causing my own marathon of migraines. Labeling it all as marketing because some self made business coach said it’s necessary.

No.

I’d rather be the notes flitting in the chatter of neighborhood birds. Or the teeny, inconceivable buds of manzanita shrubs littering the high desert, setting out flowers in the middle of winter. Or the glistens of pine sap running down the gentle weeping spruce, clearly shedding tears for humans forgetting their nature.

These sparkly little moments, these seemingly nobody segments, are in fact the fractals of existence that make life worth living.

What is this of fame, fortune, and other hollow promises?

Why spend all the time and energy in the world creating only to market a product to people with blinders on?

Setting aside the race set up for rodents, I’m going to relish in the fact that I am nobody. I am nobody! On the internet, in my community. I am merely a rock resting on the mother mountain, seemingly nobody…

But among billions of other nobody’s, we become the entirety of the mountain. And together we are somebody.

Being nobody is being free. Free to dance, free to do anything you desire. Yes we can still make art and share it, but being a nobody? There’s no pressure behind that. Just being. In the process of being and doing, dreaming and acting without any outside influences telling you yes or no, you are in the flow of life, rippling joy into the world without having to try anything to do so.

Simply existing in your own, unique way changes the world. You give others permission to pursue their dreams, and the ripples continue until the trees stop weeping.

So, if you find yourself feeling discouraged about a. having to be somebody b. wanting to be somebody c. feeling unseen because you’re trying, trying, trying and nothing is working to grow…

I hope you step back and decide to be a nobody. Let yourself be free in your creativity. Take your time in becoming a beautifully grown tree, strong from the varieties of weather visiting you in various stages of your dream.

You will be seen. A collection of nobody-rain-drops creates one hell of an ocean.

What does being “nobody” and being “somebody” mean to you?

Until next time,

Ashley Lynn