I have great manifestos gurgling in the throat of ---I suppose what would be my pen. Let’s say metaphorically--in my hand. But, it’s not only in my hand it is in my heart. It is the spirit of writing coming to visit me for the first time in months. The change of season is a peculiar time for me. I notice today….“extra.” Let’s just say there is more of me to love. I am filled up, literally :-). There is also more space available, more room to breathe, and better air. I think there are two qualities that inspire the mind of the writer, one being extreme pain, and the other room. I think better put...capacity. I always feel like in order to write, I need the space to do so. In my schedule that space is almost never available, but something about this season has brought with it the abundance of extra. And, just as it is with my own body to this extraness I say, “this is unexpected, but I love you anyway.”
On last Thursday, I couldn't work. I tried to concentrate but couldn't. I was grasping at something, something I couldn't reach, and clamoring at something unseen. I felt the tension in my body and in my emotions, I was angry--but at what? On Thursday I updated my Linked-In profile, and I realized there were things missing, words and ideas I wanted to communicate. A story I wanted to tell that couldn't be seen from the sterile words I used to describe my professional career. So, I kept updating, and looking at other profiles, and I kept yearning, grasping as if my Linked-In profile would reveal a magic answer. Instead, what I found was me...telling myself I was not good enough, not educated enough, didn't have enough experience in this area or another, I needed more training. All of this validating my fears and solidifying my unworthiness. Geez! It's clear now although it wasn't then. I don't have all of the answers, I likely never will. But Go