Sometimes when I'm in the middle of a really good book, I have to put it down because its language and its message inspires me to write. So that's what I'm doing at this moment. Staring at my computer screen, mind suddenly drifting to a make-believe scene and a set of words that's decided to resurface today. Of course at this point in my life journey I'm not so sure anymore how "make-believe" that scene is, or the countless others I probably know too well for someone who never thought she'd grow up to sound like she'd been "ripped from the script." But anyhow, those words are about how letting go is a battle and a fight that takes a little help, a little courage, a little trust, a little hope, and a whole lot of belief.
The battle of letting go can take on many forms in our lives. They may be different for each of us. Who can say what they'll end up being....disease, financial hardship, death, dying, forgiveness, transformation, acceptance, self-discovery, or the resolve to finally make yourself listen to the truth. As much control as we think we have, sometimes our higher self knows better. Sometimes it's not going to let us get away that easy this time with our ability to exercise free will. We've already done that and look where it got us. Time's up, baby. It's not about you anymore. It's time to let go of who you think you are and master this lesson so you can move on to the next one. It's time to serve the rest of who you are-the rest of humanity that you once were and might someday be again. The universe holds more miracles and mysteries within itself than we can ever comprehend. Listen. Pay attention. Connect the dots. Stop resisting and start accepting.
The funny thing is we already know what we need to do, we've known it for a long time, decades even. We just have a hard time doing it. We have a hard time believing in something that doesn't make sense. Letting go and surrendering to something we don't understand yet, that's our battle, that's our fight. It's probably something we don't even like, something that certainly doesn't serve our ego or what we think is in our best interests. In order to do it, we have to shut that half of our brain up (as a wise MFA friend kept repeating to me in June) that doubts, tries to discredit, tries to justify, and tries to preserve the lifesaver that ends up drowning us anyway.
As tough, sad, scary, and completely ludicrous on paper as it is, we don't need a lifesaver. When we let go, we find out just how strong we already were and that we already knew how to navigate and save ourselves. And when we let go, we release what was keeping us from seeing possibility.
We go for it anyway. Despite the risks. Despite the consequences. Because it keeps pulling, it keeps pointing, it keeps whispering until it gives us no other choice.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
"Dazed and Confused"
Almost everyone knows that HSPs and Libras struggle with decisions. I've written about this before, but since June I've been internally debating quite a few. Not the type that determines whether you'll be eating Subway tonight instead of TGI Fridays or whether you should pick up a bottle of Chardonnay instead of that Menage A Trois red blend you love so much. No, these decisions are a little more complicated than that. And it starts with the truth-I am tired of writing.
I do not see the point in reading books just so you can pick them apart and wonder why something was written this way and not that way. I am tired of hearing opinion after opinion about how to make something better, what "works" and what "doesn't work." I am tired of being told what should be and what shouldn't be. I am tired of reading passionless excerpt after passionless excerpt from my MFA peers and having to make some kind of comment that makes it sound like I enjoyed reading their work. Yeah, I know this sounds stuck-up and snobbish, but I do not want to be molded into someone who only thinks and writes as if technique and structure were more important than feeling and creating. Since June I have picked up more fiction than I have since I was a teenager, but even reading some of it has bored me to tears. Most of the craft books I've had to read have been even worse.
I have cancelled one of my writing contracts because I didn't want to write lies about how the world of academia is of course, the ultimate truth of what actually goes on in the practical world. Besides, this client wanted me to put in the most effort for the least pay. That's not a smart or necessary use of my time. I'm really only still writing with two sites and it's taking me longer than ever to produce my work. Not because I'm slow, but because I get bored, distracted and just don't want to do it. In short, I'm burnt out.
My day job is okay. But now they want me to spend my days in my own office researching and testing software. I now get to contact vendors and write procedural guides. I was elected for this because they know I'm a "writer." I wish they didn't know. But when you mention in the interview that most of your current technical knowledge comes from writing technical articles and you have to request time off to attend your MFA residency in California.......well, there goes that little piece of anonymity.
I have long-term side effects from my concussion that I didn't expect. Not being able to sleep more than a few hours at a time, occasional random dizziness and nausea, irritability, not feeling rested after sleeping, taking 3-5 hour naps involuntarily, poor short-term memory, poor concentration, inability to clean my house in one spurt, random sharp pains that feel like an oncoming bad headache. At least I'm alive (for now). I'm aware that plenty of people don't even survive a head injury. This is my second. The first was when I was four years old. I guess I have some reason for survival, some purpose, some work to finish up before I depart this body. I just don't know what that is yet.
This isn't an inspirational post. In fact, it's quite depressing. I'm aware of that. Unfollow if you must, but as I've said before I don't blog for popularity. This is what I'm feeling right now. It's necessary that I have a job or a way to bring in enough income so I can pay my bills. That's why I don't quit my day job or terminate all of my writing contracts. It's not necessary that I get an MFA (which so far I don't think is for me, even though I'm aware some people would give their teeth to be in this program), write a novel, a collection of short stories or poetry, or publish them and then elevate the hell out of myself because now I'm a "real writer." To be honest, that's not even why I applied. I wasn't in this to get a book deal, submit a bunch of my work, or "become what I should be." I applied because I wanted to grow, I wanted to feel passion about something, I wanted to enjoy life. And most of all I wanted to escape.
But the truth is, none of that has happened. The truth is that I barely work on my creative work because it's the last thing on my priority list. Because it's not necessary. Because I have no passion. Because I am done traveling this road.
I do not see the point in reading books just so you can pick them apart and wonder why something was written this way and not that way. I am tired of hearing opinion after opinion about how to make something better, what "works" and what "doesn't work." I am tired of being told what should be and what shouldn't be. I am tired of reading passionless excerpt after passionless excerpt from my MFA peers and having to make some kind of comment that makes it sound like I enjoyed reading their work. Yeah, I know this sounds stuck-up and snobbish, but I do not want to be molded into someone who only thinks and writes as if technique and structure were more important than feeling and creating. Since June I have picked up more fiction than I have since I was a teenager, but even reading some of it has bored me to tears. Most of the craft books I've had to read have been even worse.
I have cancelled one of my writing contracts because I didn't want to write lies about how the world of academia is of course, the ultimate truth of what actually goes on in the practical world. Besides, this client wanted me to put in the most effort for the least pay. That's not a smart or necessary use of my time. I'm really only still writing with two sites and it's taking me longer than ever to produce my work. Not because I'm slow, but because I get bored, distracted and just don't want to do it. In short, I'm burnt out.
My day job is okay. But now they want me to spend my days in my own office researching and testing software. I now get to contact vendors and write procedural guides. I was elected for this because they know I'm a "writer." I wish they didn't know. But when you mention in the interview that most of your current technical knowledge comes from writing technical articles and you have to request time off to attend your MFA residency in California.......well, there goes that little piece of anonymity.
I have long-term side effects from my concussion that I didn't expect. Not being able to sleep more than a few hours at a time, occasional random dizziness and nausea, irritability, not feeling rested after sleeping, taking 3-5 hour naps involuntarily, poor short-term memory, poor concentration, inability to clean my house in one spurt, random sharp pains that feel like an oncoming bad headache. At least I'm alive (for now). I'm aware that plenty of people don't even survive a head injury. This is my second. The first was when I was four years old. I guess I have some reason for survival, some purpose, some work to finish up before I depart this body. I just don't know what that is yet.
This isn't an inspirational post. In fact, it's quite depressing. I'm aware of that. Unfollow if you must, but as I've said before I don't blog for popularity. This is what I'm feeling right now. It's necessary that I have a job or a way to bring in enough income so I can pay my bills. That's why I don't quit my day job or terminate all of my writing contracts. It's not necessary that I get an MFA (which so far I don't think is for me, even though I'm aware some people would give their teeth to be in this program), write a novel, a collection of short stories or poetry, or publish them and then elevate the hell out of myself because now I'm a "real writer." To be honest, that's not even why I applied. I wasn't in this to get a book deal, submit a bunch of my work, or "become what I should be." I applied because I wanted to grow, I wanted to feel passion about something, I wanted to enjoy life. And most of all I wanted to escape.
But the truth is, none of that has happened. The truth is that I barely work on my creative work because it's the last thing on my priority list. Because it's not necessary. Because I have no passion. Because I am done traveling this road.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Chances, Love, Light & Rescue
The purpose is never in the action, but rather in the reflection.
Within our human experiences is the point where we can look back at a low point in our lives and realize that something saved us. Call it inspiration, revival, divine rescue, light from the work of an empath, or a simple chance. As I sat in the balcony of a local auditorium last night, slightly dizzy from the height, I got the opportunity to listen to the lyrical and spoken wisdom of someone whose work had a profound effect on my spiritual evolution. By spiritual I don't mean religious, but the journey we take to find our voice, our human identity, and our purpose.
The songs that I used to sing to in my bedroom drifted up to the rafters, somehow instantly transforming into something more meaningful inside my older self. What is the chance that you'll get to sit next to someone that you have a relationship with that's in need of transformation, hear the most poignant songs from that collection you still listen to, have flashbacks to those good childhood moments, hear the voice of your future whispering into your being, have a musician say exactly what needs to be said to the person beside you, and connect with the gift and purpose of a light worker all in the course of a couple of hours? Pretty amazing, I think.
A co-worker and I recently talked about the quote that says you'll find your destiny on the road that you took to avoid it. That wonderful and beautiful novel I read recently said you'll never know when you'll find yourself rescued or what will become your light. It's one of those mysterious aspects of being human that is so exhilarating, peaceful, and beyond expression when it comes together.
Those things I once aspired to be, I already was. I just had to grow up to see. The message was already there. I think it's like that for most of us who discover that the reason we're here is to spread light, compassion, pixie dust, whatever you want to name it. Our eyes "see good where good cannot be found, we see every pain, know what you're going through and feel it the same." If those lyrics don't sum up the empath experience, I don't know what does. Whatever form it takes, whatever our talents, no matter the name we give our beliefs, all we have to do is jump on that train and let it slowly show us the track we thought we weren't on.
Embrace every car of that train, every rail on that track, every scene, every moment. As another greatly undervalued source of light more or less revealed, at the end you might realize that it wasn't quite near long enough.
Within our human experiences is the point where we can look back at a low point in our lives and realize that something saved us. Call it inspiration, revival, divine rescue, light from the work of an empath, or a simple chance. As I sat in the balcony of a local auditorium last night, slightly dizzy from the height, I got the opportunity to listen to the lyrical and spoken wisdom of someone whose work had a profound effect on my spiritual evolution. By spiritual I don't mean religious, but the journey we take to find our voice, our human identity, and our purpose.
The songs that I used to sing to in my bedroom drifted up to the rafters, somehow instantly transforming into something more meaningful inside my older self. What is the chance that you'll get to sit next to someone that you have a relationship with that's in need of transformation, hear the most poignant songs from that collection you still listen to, have flashbacks to those good childhood moments, hear the voice of your future whispering into your being, have a musician say exactly what needs to be said to the person beside you, and connect with the gift and purpose of a light worker all in the course of a couple of hours? Pretty amazing, I think.
A co-worker and I recently talked about the quote that says you'll find your destiny on the road that you took to avoid it. That wonderful and beautiful novel I read recently said you'll never know when you'll find yourself rescued or what will become your light. It's one of those mysterious aspects of being human that is so exhilarating, peaceful, and beyond expression when it comes together.
Those things I once aspired to be, I already was. I just had to grow up to see. The message was already there. I think it's like that for most of us who discover that the reason we're here is to spread light, compassion, pixie dust, whatever you want to name it. Our eyes "see good where good cannot be found, we see every pain, know what you're going through and feel it the same." If those lyrics don't sum up the empath experience, I don't know what does. Whatever form it takes, whatever our talents, no matter the name we give our beliefs, all we have to do is jump on that train and let it slowly show us the track we thought we weren't on.
Embrace every car of that train, every rail on that track, every scene, every moment. As another greatly undervalued source of light more or less revealed, at the end you might realize that it wasn't quite near long enough.
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