I think it’s easy to get lost in planning. In processes. In setting future-oriented goals to move toward.
It’s all good.
In a lot of ways, our structure gives us freedom. To flow with our creativity. To be more intentional with it.
And then a bad day hits. Knocking our processes and plans for the future out of kilter.
And you wonder where all your tools and resources went for weathering this, another stormy season.
I would say if the fear Jedi had a daily practice, like Qi Gong or something, it would be the act of making it her intention to approve of herself, constantly. In a mantra-like way.
Nature shows me the pattern of regeneration. Which strengthens my sense of Faith. I breathe it deeply & repeat.
Nature. Saying so much, often in complete silence.
Nature. Resilience that builds beauty and perfection slowly, over time. Patient.
Nature. Ever-changing transformation. With each torrential downpour or earthquake on the other side of the world.
Each and every thing that is in nature is alive with purpose. It has transformed itself, over and over in order to be there. The way a cactus thrives in a desert.
Life is always expanding. Over the top of itself. Transformation is what life is.
New Moon. Beginnings. Fresh starts. What a perfect day to write and begin again! After my gut-wrenching last post, I’ve just been taking time with myself and giving myself lots of room. That means whatever I feel, I feel. And trying not to judge any part of it; my feelings, the situation or reactions from others.
“If we were REALLY being authentic, we’d admit it hurts like hell.”
In Naomi Dunford’s latest post, she talks about how we (try to) filter our authenticity through ‘only the feel good’ stuff (which isn’t real authenticity at all) and the high cost of being truly authentic when you’re ittybiz’in it.
That last line is what did it for me. I (have finally) found my permission. Not from Naomi but in her demonstration and willingness to take the risk of showing her pain.
It’s a beautiful Friday morning which means another week has passsed and I realize I haven’t written anything (for my blog) and that I actually miss what writing brings to me.
I keep thinking I’d like to adopt some ritual, like Havi’s Friday Chicken, to help me mold and shape and anchor a new pattern of writing regularly deeply into my life. Because I know writing is good for me.
Many things seem to bump up against it loudly. “Me! Here… over here. Pay attention to this!”
