Saturday, November 1, 2014

To Everything There Is A Season

   My last blog post was submitted almost a year to the day of this newest post.  I have asked myself why I haven't posted on this blog or written anything of much consequence and have found that the excuses ..... they are legion!

But just because I haven't written doesn't mean I haven't been thinking, planning, jotting or exercising this gift.  I feel I have come through a storm, of sorts, and have come out a stronger individual who is more inclined to give herself permission to make the boundaries that are needed  for self preservation. 
I began the journey back to my true self several months ago when I began reading a book that my daughter gave me called,  Women Who Run With the Wolves  by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D. At first, I was unsure about the nature of the book.  It gave me such a different way of looking at myself and the world around me, that I wasn't sure I would have much use for the content.  But my continuing struggle to carve out time and follow my dream, forced me to look deeper within myself and at the words I was trying to assimilate into my life.  But one day I read these words.....

     "The world is lonely for comfort, and for the hips and breasts of women.  It calls out in a thousand-handed, million voiced way, waving to us, plucking and pulling at us, asking for our attention.  Sometimes it seems that everywhere we turn there is a someone or a something of the world that needs, wants, wishes.  Some of the people, issues, and things of the world are appealing and charming; others may be demanding and angry; and yet others seem so heartrendingly helpless that, against our wills, our empathy overflows, our milk runs down our bellies.  But unless it is a life and death matter, take the time, make the time, to "put on the brass brassiere." Stop running the milk train. Do the work of turning home."

   These were the words that forged my courage and forced me to look at the "milk train" I was running.  My choices were no longer about me, but about everyone around me. I have a large family of four children and nine grandchildren.  I am a nurturer by nature and while this is wonderful trait that benefited those around me, I had allowed my desires to be placed on the back burner.  I allowed the never ending task of housework to overrule the need to sit down and write.  And if all of that wasn't enough to cause my writing to peter out, somewhere along the journey of my life I had begun to believe that writing was frivolous and unnecessary. Before long I laid down my pen and stepped away from the computer.  I couldn't find my way out of the labyrinth of excuses I had developed. 

   the ARTIST"S WAY by Julia Cameron was given to me by a dear friend who had seen my struggle.  The exercises in this book put the pen back in my hand and gently set the rule that I had to produce three long hand written pages of stream of consciousness writing. These are called "The Morning Pages".  It was in the writing of those pages that I unlocked secret doors to the inner censor that told me my writing had no value.  The writing flung open the closet doors and the skeletons hiding there were thrown into the light and the doors were removed from the more dark corners for the lies to take up residence.

   It has been a busy year.  A year of introspection.  A year of truth. 

  I reached out to two fellow bloggers whose work I respect and whose words move me whenever they graciously share them with the world. I asked for their wisdom and their virtual friendship.  I asked to be considered a sister in writing.  They lovingly answered with encouragement.  And now, with the gentle nudging of  fellow blogger  and friend I have never met, I sit down at my computer and once again allow the words to pour forth.  I hope that the numerous thoughts that bounce around in my head like popcorn in a pan of hot oil will feed my soul as I follow my desires. I excitedly look forward to this month of November and look forward to the challenge of a daily post!

1 comment:

  1. Sister, friend. I can't wait to read about your rebirth.