If this flame is still burning a year from now

Since becoming an adult, I haven't written wishes on strips of paper anymore.

When we were kids, we were always made to write them for school events and such, weren't we? But as an adult, those opportunities have dropped off significantly. I only remember Tanabata when I happen to find a corner for writing wishes at a shopping mall I've wandered into.

Even when I find one, I think, "People will see it," and either walk right past without bothering to write anything, or just feel warmed by the cute wishes others have written instead. It's not like anyone would know it was me even if they did see it, though. Adults are such troublesome creatures.

Today, while I was walking, I suddenly remembered these lyrics. It's not a song I listen to regularly, so I don't know why I remembered it.

When I first heard it, I really thought, "That's so true." I didn't want to grow up! I thought. Haha.

This has been stuck somewhere in my heart for a long time. Maybe the intense heat accidentally thawed it out.

The flame I've been burning in my heart can sometimes grow small while I'm busy trying to "keep up with daily life and do things properly" as an adult, but...

Adults are allowed to dream, too, aren't they?

Maybe I'll try entrusting a dream to the starry sky just once a year...

Last month, I started a membership program.

It's a place where people can quietly peek at the "in-progress" stages of my creative work.

This started from my desire to find a way to stop the creative brakes that kick in whenever I try to hit a perfect score right from the start. It's that thing where I'm a so-called "perfectionist" and end up unable to move forward.

I started it with the feeling that if I intentionally expose all my hesitations and failures while creating, maybe I'll start moving again? Maybe I can change?

As I continued to manage this, I realized that there was this deeper sentiment behind it all.

"I don't want to let the flame of creativity die out."

I think it's a common experience that as we become adults, the things we love get pushed to the back burner in our daily lives. For me, it might be caregiving right now, but for others, it could be raising children or work.

Before you know it, you get this feeling that the "flame of creativity" that was burning inside you is starting to fade...

This is a bit of a story from the past, but for about three years after I started working, I had a period where I wasn't blessed with good supervisors. Meetings that started after work hours (for some reason), days where I'd miss the last train and have to take a taxi home. I couldn't play my beloved guitar at all.

Even on my days off, honestly, I didn't have the energy to open my guitar case. When I did play occasionally, I was clearly getting worse. It was painful. Even though I had the desire to play...

I just went through the days of going to work and coming home, but after a transfer, I finally got back the time to spend on what I loved.

It was then that a friend asked me, "Could you put some music to the photos I took?"

The flame of creativity that had been fading flared up all at once.

Even though our genres were different, just sharing a space for creation with a friend was already so much fun. It felt like we were sharing our flames with each other.

Ah, perhaps the reason I am who I am today is thanks to that...

Actually, after this, I began to pursue music activities energetically, which leads to where I am now. My flame had successfully been revived.

It's not just about my own flame, of course.

Just like me back then, there are people who have a flame of creativity, but it's small right now. I want to gently share my fire with those people. I hope I can become someone like the friend who reached out to me that day.

Even if you can't start creating right now, if you come here, the flame of creativity is always burning. I want to create a place where people can feel that way, and I hope the number of friends who can share the fire together will grow.

I hope this flame is still lit next year. And that I'm surrounded by many friends, laughing together around it. I would like to gently entrust that wish to a tanzaku strip.

Kotobato's project, #Tanabata Time Capsule - I participated! They say the wishes we write will be opened a year from now!

I've written about something similar before. Perhaps this is something I've been thinking about for a long time.

If you also have a small flame inside you and feel like gently gathering around it with someone, please take a look.

#TanabataTimeCapsule