I typically spend a lovely 10 or 15 minutes out on the pier in Rogers Park, Chicago (near my apt and studio) in the late evening before I turn in for the night. Time staring at the moon casting it’s light on the water with the distant view of downtown is heartening. I stayed for a while longer tonight. I couldn’t get enough of it. The wind was warm and vigorous, and the waves crashed and swelled. The mildly violent spring turbulence gave me an unexpected comfort, encouraging reflection on my dreams, experiences, and accomplishments. I look outward and realized I’ve fought for my time here. I have been in the city nearing 3 years, and it seems my persistence and luck will allow for me to continue. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the doors I’ve been able to open, and love for the people who have opened their arms to me. 

Tonight came as a great reminder that this line of work cannot be sustained on inspiration alone. It comes often with many things I didn’t expect. It’s more humbling than I had planned for. And not only in the obvious times of struggle, but also, and even more so, in times of assurance. To give myself to this entirely and faithfully is one of the most unnerving and beautiful things I’ve ever done.