If I didn’t have the record of it right in front of me, no one could convince me that I last wrote a few days ago. It seems like several weeks. It feels like my writing muscles are way out of shape. Writing seems scary and frozen and treacherous and unappealing.
It used to be that feelings like these could go on for a long time, accumulating and hardening over months. Now it feels a lot like that icky-sluggish-haven’t-exercised-lately feeling. The I-don’t-want-to-move-but-I-need-to-move feeling. The only way out of that feeling, I have learned, is to move.
This is a “ta-da!” moment. I have integrated writing into my life such that I get an icky-sluggish-haven’t-written-lately feeling when I haven’t! I start to feel clogged up. I get cranky and short-tempered and shut down. I go into a kind of exhausted fog. Not pleasant.
Since nothing else was in my reach this morning, I wrote about how I was feeling about writing; I wrote the material above. Then I went on a wandering rambling about an event I recently went to. Then I realized that was not going to make an interesting post, and let all that text go.
But those words played their role. I’m feeling a little better already. There’s more life inside my chest and more flexibility in my fingers. Writing seems less scary. The list of things I want to write about seems more inviting and less like a field of landmines.
There’s gratitude here too. Gratitude that there is something I can do each morning that is so magical to me.
I believe so strongly (there are few things I believe more strongly) that each of one of us is given something like this, some pursuit that feels right in us and renews our energy and makes us feel like we can walk safely in the world.
Some of us know what that thing is and practice it. But even we forget its importance from time to time, we lose it periodically, we fail to protect it from the pressures and demands of our lives. We fall out of the habit. We lack the courage. The fears win out.
Some of us don’t know what that special pursuit is for us, we don’t know what thing will be magic for us. Then the only thing to do is to follow the whispers that don’t make sense to find out.
What we discover is often not what our egos want. Perhaps you want your thing to be running but you are hearing a faint inner whisper about…about…playing a drum? Maybe you want your thing to be gardening but you know, from way back in childhood, that there is nothing for you like time with animals.
Giving up directorship and trusting what’s true are some of the first hurdles. Then there are other fears, of being a beginner, of “failing” or not being “good.” There’s no journey to reclaiming our loves that doesn’t involve facing fears.
The fears are worst at the beginning, I think, before the momentum of the pursuit you love has had a chance to sweep you away, before your love of the pursuit has been awakened enough to carry you over the fear-obstacles. Letting the early fears rule is like never having falling in love simply because of the butterflies in your stomach before the first kiss.
Now I’ve written. There’s a lightness in my chest, and an ability to face the day, and a sense of being me today. There are tears for the blessings of all that.
Because I live in this bubbling sprinting time of technologies and connectedness and tribes, I get to share this, right now. I get to take it out from this room and computer, into the world. People will read it, and respond, and there will be a conversation about it here.
I get to go out and take a walk and pour milk in coffee and stir and talk to the people in my family. I get to do the now-thing. Amazement.