Not Yet

Back in April, my friend Chrisy sent me a link to a session at the Lighthouse Writers.  This informational gathering was held on a Saturday in late April - I attended and knew a fellow poet or two there.  The program is monikered the Poetry Collective and they loosely billed the offering as a quasi-MFA without the two year undertaking and cost outlay.

There was a two month window in which to submit an on-line application along with up to 10 poems, twenty pages of your work.  A working title for a collection was required as well.  There was no application fee.  Just this really long span of time in which I could torture myself.  Should I apply?  Do I have the constitutional fortitude to commit to a year long program?  Do I like people enough to work in close proximity for a year?  Would my life and/or my lifestyle somehow prohibit me from completing the tasks? I am a natural procrastinator and this time frame fed that character trait.  In the end, I pressed send about three days before the deadline and the waiting time commenced.

July was the 'date' given to expect a response.  I both loved and resented the ambiguity of an entire month being a timeframe.  I joked about it to another poet I know who also applied for this opportunity.  We made a promise to one another to be supportive no matter what the outcome for either of us.

Here is what my inbox looked like this afternoon - opened upon returning from the gym and Al-Anon:

Now maybe I did allow my mind get a wee bit ahead of itself, but my heart did indeed skip a beat or two when I saw the subject line from Lighthouse stating that this is my Lucky Day!!  What could be luckier than being accepted to a program that I didn't even know existed until three months ago?  I waited to open the e-mail thinking - Am I ready for this?  Can I indeed partake in something that involves dedication and lots of hard work?   

I look at the next e-mail down, also from Lighthouse.  This no subject in the subject line is the one with the actual "Envelope Please" moment I had been waiting for all July.  Well, ten days, but who is counting?  The first e-mail was about a fundraising casino night to benefit Lighthouse, hence Lucky Day being the hook.  The next one was the form letter rejection, or non-acceptance - of me and my work to the Poetry Collective.  A bit of an anti-climatic moment.  Not because of the NO, but because of the weird timing of the e-mails.

I actually breathed a few sighs of relief.  Sometimes when decisions are made for me, it is easier to accept.  I firmly believe that what is meant to happen, is what happens.  Maybe I am not ready for the reason(s) I listed above or a reason yet to be revealed.  Maybe I am going to be so busy in the next year figuring out where to live next, helping my youngest with her baby and celebrating a milestone birthday that this just wasn't the right timing.  I don't know the reason that a dozen other people heard a yes.  I hold no resentment for that.  My life is rich and full with or without this dimension.  Plus I just saved myself about three grand.

It used to be so hard for me to admit defeat or failure.  Today I am able to write about my life and express the spectrum of emotions that we as humans experience.  I am slightly disappointed, but not devastated.  I can be unhappy about not being accepted, but I can still be happy overall.  I can send positivity to those accepted, attend their readings at next year's LitFest and think about applying again at a future date.  If I want to - who knows what the coming year holds for me?

I won't hold onto this NO as a message that I am not enough.  Not a good enough writer, a good enough wordsmith, a good enough person.  I will hold onto this NO as a NOT YET.  For whatever reason, not yet.  This affirmative mindset leaves me room to grow; both in my writing and my acceptance of what is.  It is a bit humbling to learn that I wasn't accepted this time around.  I can use that as a stepping stone, or stumbling block.  Not yet gives me time to hone my craft, take more classes, write more poems, explore other genres.  

Even though I don't get to hold onto a statuette and gush until the music stops me, I would like to say thank you to my family and friends who supported my journey the past three months.

Time to Write,

Jane