Saturday, August 29, 2015

Welcome Back

So, the truth is, I haven't opened up my journal in over a year.  Don't get me wrong, the desire is there:  I've been carrying it around with me, moving it from bag to bag, from house to car and back again, waiting for that glorious, inspired moment when the clouds will part and the cover will just fly open to a crisp, blank page and the words will begin to flow again.  But it hasn't.  And they don't.  And I'm very good at convincing myself it's because I don't have time and the kids are too this and my work is too that and making all the excuses I want, but the truth is - now that we're talking truth - the real truth is that I have all these words and stories and ideas and creatives monkeying around inside of me, but as soon as they try to emerge, it's like there's this big intimidating, extremely heavy-looking boulder blocking the exit.  Every time.  So, the truth is, I'm stuck.  And probably a little scared.  Cause I think stuck and scared are bedfellows most of the time.  

But it's time.  Man, is it fucking time.  It's time to stand up, creep a little closer to that big, bad boulder and take a peek on what could be on the other side.

So I stopped waiting for that divine intervention.  I sat down, grabbed a pen, opened up the cover of my journal to the first blank page, put pen to paper, closed my eyes and just listened really hard to the first thing that came up.  No editing, no filtering, no judgement.  And this was it:  apparently I'm welcoming myself back by taking my own advice about letting go.

Take hold of what is no longer viable.  Take a good honest look.  Cradle it in both hands, softly and lovingly.  Don't squeeze it, don't suffocate it, don't punish it for the things it's no longer able to give you.  Remember, it had a pulse once.  It served a purpose.  It had a time and a place and a reason and a rhythm.  It nourished you.  Even while it may have been hurting you.  Honor it, thank it for how it served you, offer it forgiveness and grace and then open your palms and with a long, gentle exhale, blow it one last kiss.  Goodbye.



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