I Birthed a Creative Dreamer Fairy
Why "unproductive joy" makes no sense to Sydney — and maybe shouldn't to us either
You will not be remotely surprised to hear that I was an organized, diligent student with a fixation on good grades, scholarships, and impeccable work. An award was at stake? Say less. I was the firstborn daughter, first kid, first niece, first grandchild; first daughter of a first son, first daughter of a first daughter; eldest sibling and cousin. I followed the rules. I was born with a plan. I invented the concept of maxxing by third grade.
Then I birthed a sunny free-spirit who looks just like me but has a totally different story arc. She is absolutely a Type B, Enneagram 7. Time is a construct. Life is made to be lived! Capitalism will not define her! In high school when asked about a career path, she said, “A meadow dweller? A berry picker?” (Then she had the nerve to graduate at the top of her class.) She once told me she wished God had made her a turtle so she could “turn her face to the sun and have peace.” I’m just saying this is who she is.
I sent her this meme.
She is 26 now, and it is inspiring and fascinating to watch her build her life exactly to the beat of her internal drum. She is in possession of extraordinary gifts, and she builds her work life with one agenda: Balance income, flexibility, and meaningful work so she can live a meaningful life. She has traveled the world, lives a suuuuper connected life with her friends, and stays active in the practices that make her feel alive.
“Mom, I just don’t have enough time for everything.”
“Because of your hobbies?”
“They are vital!”
She is actively committed to the following on a weekly basis: pottery class, meditation practice (Sydney and a room of senior hippies), yoga, rock climbing, two book clubs, the daily NYT crossword, a janky basketball league, and a jankier softball league she and her friends made up. This isn’t even accounting for her packed social life which includes roller derby, concerts, live music, ACL, SXSW, yard parties, river days, party barges, dinner parties, trash show binge nights, and weekend brunches. Her IG caption at the start of June said: “This summer I’m going to perfect my dive, read lots of First Light Staff picks, and learn how to ride my bike with no hands.”
I birthed a creative dreamer fairy.
While I have certainly developed an affair with Gorgeous Big Wonderful Life™️in the ensuing years, I love watching a daughter set her North Star to “joy” in her 20s. She understands something about life most of us don’t start clocking until our 50s and beyond: