What are you waiting for?

What are you waiting for?

“If you’re going to be a writer, you have to f%#&’n WRITE.”

I go through life with words, phrases, sentences, messages swirling around in my head, bumping into each other in a chaotic mess that vibrates and echoes often leaving me exhausted and dazed. I’ve waited for the words to arrange themselves, thinking that was a necessary step before written expression would be possible. I’ve given up that idea. Whatever comes of this exercise is no longer of importance but only the act of release that matters, for without that, I fear I’ll soon be rendered permanently STUCK. Stuck in this plane of life, unable to move beyond what I am now.

And what is that exactly?

Aware. I am aware, aware to the possibilities before me and aware of the struggles behind me. Accomplished enough to know what I am capable of yet inexperienced enough to remain fearful of failing. Aware that failing is a natural step in the progression of personal evolution. Starving for the next step on this journey, I’ve seen glimpses of what is to come. In my mind’s eye, I’ve lived brief moments of this destiny. Through dreams and visions I’ve felt what is possible, just enough to whet my desire and leave my soul craving more. Nanoseconds of realization experienced with a divine truth signaling my soul, “this is IT.”

And what is IT exactly?

Physically, IT is adrenaline rushing through the body creating a rapid flow of blood and a pounding heart that invigorates, stimulates, and inspires. It is a flush of heat that starts in the chest and spreads up to the head, down to the hands, and radiates out in what I imagine is a visual display of vibrancy. My body feverish and my palms sweaty. My ears, clogged with a slight ringing noise that distorts the sounds around me, not unlike that feeling of floating underwater.

I imagine the physical body’s vital signs might register like those of a runner after crossing the finish line and yet inwardly, calm. There is a knowing that all is well, a beckoning to relax and let go. I’m standing at the edge of a magnificent cliff. The air is crisp. The sun is warm. A slight breeze passes over my body and sends a chill up my spine. This is the edge of destiny.

“Breathe deeply and let go. Trust that this is who you are. Everything that has happened before has prepared you for the next step. Take it. Embrace your destiny. You are worthy. This is your path. All else is a dream. You are the observer. This is your reality.”

And what does IT mean?

It means creation has already taken place. Communicate that which the soul has created.

“Step out of the way and let that which IS be received.”

It means I have only to quiet the noise and trust in the message.

“There is no doing to be done. There is only being. Trust what comes in and let it pass through without thought, judgment, or interpretation.”

There is a fear of madness, a fear of letting go and losing control. Like an addict, never knowing when the point of no return might be crossed, the high is intoxicating. To lock one’s self away and let go without timetables or commitments, abandoning all worries or ties to a world that is constantly demanding and distracting, that is the lure and there in lies the fear. But what exactly is that fear?

Loss? – Fear that connection to everything held dear might be broken and I might find myself alone and with nothing. It occurs to me that I’ve faced this fear before at another crossroad in life, only then the fear was much stronger and the outcome much less predictable. Desperation propelled me forward, not awareness or courage. The pain of the status quo at the time was far greater than the fear of change. It felt less a matter of choice and more a matter of survival. Regardless, the fear was faced and the outcome was growth, confidence, trust, self-love, expression, and ultimately, the experience of a love greater than I have ever known. Had fear won that battle everything I now hold so dear would not be in my life. This realization causes me to pause, the “what if’s” screaming inside my head. Images of the person I was never becoming the person I am makes me feel sad. Ironically, who I am now, living this beautiful chaotic life that resulted from the ashes of what was, is exactly what I am fearful of now losing.

But what if instead of losing, I win again? Instead of desperation pulling me away, what if intuition propels me forward? Imagine the power of that energy. If out of desperation, this beautiful life could emerge, imagine what might be birthed through the energy of inspired creation.

There are two choices: to rest in what is or to evolve into what might be. When what IS no longer fits, there will be no choice but to evolve or to die.

What are you waiting for?


Welcome Universe!

I wonder how many other writers hide from the world.  The absurdity of it all makes me laugh.  For years I have written.  Each day I compose in my head long essays, short quips, letters, notes, poems.  Some days, I manage to transfer these compositions from my head to my computer but even when I don’t, I am writing.  I’ve gone from saying, “One day I want to be a writer.”  To saying, “One day I will be a writer.”  To saying, “I am a writer.”  Baby steps over the course of my life, 48 years in the making.

Two years ago, in a brave and bold moment, I created this blog.  With excitement I chose the blog name, the website, the cover photo, the typeface.  I created my profile and painstakingly decided what image I would put on display of myself.  As I went through the process, excitement morphed to fear.  What was I doing?  Who did I think I was?  Did I really think that people would want to read what I would write?  And if they did and it wasn’t good…

So I wrote my first blog post in August of 2010.  I wrote it and I saved it.  For days I opened it up and reread it then saved it again.  I couldn’t post it for the world to see just yet.  I needed to write a few more posts.  I told myself that I needed to get in the habit of posting on a regular basis before I made my blog public.  Because, heaven forbid, I were to start blogging and then stop.  I never did actually try to reason with myself on this point.  Did I think that the world would end if my blog wasn’t a success?  Who knows.  There really was nothing rational about my thought process at this point.

My blog sat for over a year with only a few posts entered and only one follower, me.  This was understandable because even after I found the courage to hit the publish button and send my blog out into the universe, I was not able to bring myself to actually share my blog with any specific people.  My thought was to sit back and see if perhaps someone might stumble across my blog and comment, thereby giving me safe feedback.  Feedback from an anonymous person with no idea who I was and didn’t really matter.

I had visions of my blog being highly successful and readers anxiously awaiting my next post followed immediately by nightmares of readers unsubscribing automatically.  I was paralyzed.  So here I am two years and three months later with a blog that no one has seen.  To make matters more bizarre, the things I have written for the past two years are not even on the blog, they are saved in a Word document on my computer waiting to be copied and shared.

Occasionally I open my blog to reaffirm that I still love it.  And I do.  So why don’t I share?  What exactly is the basis of this silly fear I have?  I read other blogs, very successful by the way, and I know that I can write equally well.  I have content that people would relate to and I can make words flow (most of the time).  So what grips me every time I think that I’m ready for someone to read my writings?

A recent opportunity to attend a workshop with my literary idol has given me a chance to explore this fear and I may have figured it out.  Dreams are scary things when you dare to make them real.  There is the fear of failure and looking silly.  It has been easier to play it safe, to write for myself, to be a writer in my mind without the chance of someone else telling me that I’m not.  Today that changes.  Today I know that I am a writer.  And today the fear of not seeing this dream become real is far greater than the fear of looking silly.

So welcome to my blog, Universe!  🙂