This is my 100th post. Some may reach that marker in a month. It took me over two years. And that’s just perfect.
I’ve been writing since I was in third grade. Books of tall tales, mysteriously missing christmas presents, flying love bugs from outerspace, and friends who make you smile. I started a “blog” on my old website long before I knew what a blog was. My soul softly smiles when I write a poem for a dear one. It’s in my bones that I’ll write a book someday. And if I don’t, my kiddos might (with all the journals I’ve left them!).
Here’s the thing: I used to put undue stress on myself with “shoulds” and deadlines about my life’s work. There was this urgency in me. The kind that originates from fear. Fears that hide themselves quite well within you and disguise themselves as allies of your “becoming.” I wanted to write books and books and books. I felt CALLED to, divinely inspired to.
But fear ALWAYS comes from ego. Not from the soul.
I am still called to write. I am still inspired to share the truths that rise up from within me, breathed by the Divine-in-residence of my soul. I am still called to lead – movements and meditations that connect us to our Selves, each other and the Divine. Every time I turn around, it’s as though God breathes this knowing in me.
BUT. HOW I go about what I do has shifted. The urgency – well, I sat with it. Loved it. Gave it room to be held. Craddled it.
And underneath that laid my fears. Fear of (and I’m being quite honest here) not “being” anyone. Of not “doing anything special” before I died. Fear of “not being remembered” long after I was in the grave. So I held those, too. Loved them. Craddled them.
I didn’t do this alone. My “tribe” of dear ones, my beloved Brian, my children — my greatest teachers — their love for me has wrapped itself around every raw bone in my body until my bones remembered the Truth we all know long before we are born: we are beautiful, safe, protected, adored, and so so loved.
And over time, not in one fell swoop, not in a magical wave of the wand, I sensed a peace taking up residence within me. Where there used to be fields of anxiety, now seeds of contentment blossomed. No rush. It’s all perfect. Just. As. It. Is.
And that seems to be the voice I hear now when the old storyline of fear creeps up. I am exactly where I am to be in this moment. Holding my little ones, being with Brian, leading a meditation at work, or writing a poem. I am reminded of Hafiz’s words,
“The place where you are right now, God circled on a map for you.”
Now when I sense an urgency in me, it’s the fire of LOVE rather than the chains of fear. And my exhale reminds me:
“in the end, what matters most is:
how well did you love,
how fully did you live,
how deeply did you learn to let go?”
Let go. Of all plans. Ego. And, yes, even dreams.
Because, really, what any blog post, article or book I’ve ever written or will write comes down to is this:
And if I can breathe that Truth into the moments I am with my children, my husband, my dear ones, my colleagues, I have done enough…whether I never write a book or I write a hundred.
And I hope my final words with my last breath are: “thank you.” Because love has truly transformed me and healed me. I am forever grateful. And I am grateful for the movement within me to offer that love as the poetry of my heart to the world.