Erin Lausten

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The Day “The Doctor” Gave Me My Freedom

Posted by erinlausten on June 6, 2012

image by Sergey Denisov

If you’ve been following along a bit, I’m on a journey of a lifetime. The grandest adventure, the greatest risk. Life is story, and I have decided to write my own.

What is this? She’s gone off melodramatic again, you say. Well, sure. It is so much more fun to be melodramatic. Even-keeled and blah, just isn’t my thing. Actually, it is. You see, I have control issues. I live in a constant flux of controlled madness, living in a structured reality that follows established lines of logic and expectation. Firmly inside the box, I get up day to day, follow the line, and get the job done.

But, I have this constant desire to open that box lid and peek out. I like to take that control and place it to the side and say, what if? What if the reality I am living is just one aisle in a warehouse of realities? What if I pushed that box aside and crawled through the space into another aisle, just to see what is out there? What if I opened my mind to the realm of possibilities? Not focused on what is, but what could be, and what might have been?

Oh Dear God, she’s rambling!

No, not actually. You see, I have been doing this for some time. Life has never been a straight line. The plan is constantly evolving, and the road isn’t established. Each piece of my adventure has been instigated by diverging from the linear progression. My careers, my husband, my friendships, my children, all of my adventures. Each has been a spark that made me look in a new direction and realize that there is something there. Something amazing, just waiting to be discovered.

How terrifying. The risk is enough to put you in the madhouse. What if it all goes terribly wrong? What if the pain is too much to bear? What if it is worse out there than in here, in this happy little box?

Ah, but then I wouldn’t be able to see what is out there. And it could be magnificent.

I have, of course, fallen into metaphor again. It’s a curse. I’m sorry. So what on earth am I really talking about? And what is with that title? Well, let me give you something concrete.

Things have been a little crazy. This is not entirely new, crazy is the norm, but sometimes it reaches a level that just wears me down and I seek escape. The Phoenix Comicon was phenomenal and one of those times I stepped out of that comfortable box and took a risk. Amazing and terrifying–and worth every minute. But I needed a way to recharge. And, well, it was Comicon and there was an excess of new things to explore. And the one that caught our eye (my husband and I) was Doctor Who.

You see, I had avoided exploring the Doctor Who universe because somehow I knew that I would be hooked. That it would open up into something bigger, and I wasn’t ready. I had too much to do, after all. I had a plan and no time for diversions. But finally, I needed that break, so we sat down and started watching.

And I was so very right. Obsessed even. I have been on a mental roller coaster since we watched the first episode of the new series (the Ninth Doctor, for those interested). Wrenched back and forth between emotional highs and lows, and engaged in a way I haven’t been in so long. Actually, I don’t ever remember feeling this way about a story. And I realize what it is. At this point in my life, when I am exhausted from running down that line in that box I have built around myself, I am in the perfect place for this story to hit me just right. It didn’t just hit me upside the head, it hit me square in the forehead.

And the eureka moment? I realize I want to be a part of something grand. I want to create something that can elicit the same feeling I have felt this last couple of weeks. I want to create a sense of wonder, inspire imagination, yank the emotional strings back and forth and astound.

It isn’t about writing that story, or publishing that one book. It isn’t about fame or fortune. Not about egos or self-confidence. It is by no means about establishing a new norm that I can settle in.

Save me from settling in. It is about the adventure, the road to finding out what can be, what might have been, what else we can see.  It is about opening the door to the TARDIS and stepping out. To see what is there. Forget the risks, they will always be there. Know the rules and see beyond them. Because the rules were made for one reality, and there are so many others out there.

For the first time, in a very long time, I am terrified, and it is glorious! Because I know what stories I want to tell, and I know the adventures I want to have. Is this inspiration at its most elemental level? That push to be and do something that has beaconed but has been feared? Oh yes. It is most certainly that.

Oh, what a grand feeling! What an absolutely soul engulfing feeling, it shivers and screams in my head. How fantastically awesome. How… How… dude… I need to go write.

May you find your inspiration, and may it take you to the stars on your own adventure, to a place where dreams become real and expectations are crushed by something even more wonderful.

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5 Responses to “The Day “The Doctor” Gave Me My Freedom”

  1. I’ve thus far managed to avoid getting too deep into Doctor Who…. I’ve seen bits of a couple of episodes, and was weirded out, to say the least…

    • We all have that which inspires us! That is what is so wonderful about stories, they each speak to us differently. What I find so fascinating is that we become so engaged in stories and have since we began telling them around the fires. A human constant and I love it!

  2. William and Erin: I was weirded out, as well, cus it really isn’t even close to normal of type of show. Lol. As the years went along of the what seems like 40 something years it has sort of been off and on, again, on the air, the story line, characters, and the happenings all got crasier as time went by. Lol. But, I sort of found the character, The Doctor, adorable, intriguing, and interesting. And I’d I’d always wanted to see what would happen next in the story line. But, the one thing I never understood about the show was that if The Doctor had been traveling for that long of time (of 900+ years), why does he still have trouble navigating and flying the T.A.R.D.I.S. (his spaceship)? You’d think that by now, he’d have a handle on flying it. Hehe. That, plus a couple of odd situations, such as the fact that in a couple shows, characters were seen twice where the story lines and characters they’d twice placed had nothing in common with their bloodline, family, nor with their timeline, directly. But, yet, the actresses had placed two different characters, and characters that had nothing to do with the other characters they werr playing later in the time line and story line of the show. But, all in all, it was a cool show that kept me awake and entertained. So, I am was happy. 🙂

  3. I’ve never been into Doctor Who, but I’ve had similar responses to other movies, books and TV shows. We find our adventures in unexpected places….

    • Lol, hon. 🙂 I completely agree with you about that we do find our adventures in unexpected places. Take one of my favourite poems I’d recently written… I’d been inspired to write it cus of a song I’d heard that had really moved me, so. And I wrote straight from emotion, remembering that song, and even listening, again, to that song as I was writing it so to not lose my muse as I was writing it. Some romance poems, I’ve written, had not been inspired not by songs, nor shows, movies, personal experiences, etc., but by other people’s actual experiences in life about which they’d told me. Those experiences had filled me with empathy and sympathy for what they had been going through, as well as had inspired me to write about their experiences as though form the perspective of first person, as though from me, myself. I’d hoped it would be more effecticve of romance poems that way. But, anyway, yes, I completely agree with you about that we do get our adventures from the strangest places. ne place, for example, was on the road, traveling. I was loistening to the heart-wrenching story of loss of a loved one that a male friend of mine had told that had moved me so, that, in combination with his being near tears that showed in his eyes and voice, had helped to move me even more so, so that I was writing the poem even before we had finished the whole conversation about it. I had had a pencil and paper on hand-as writers often do. And so, I wrote about it, telling him that I had to capture about it. He, of cours,e allowed me to do so, as long as I kept his name out of mention within the poem, within the poem’s description, and within my book in which I might add it (which by now, is added and published).

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