Confessional

Sighing heart

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So today was a good day.  Pooch had a day out and I felt like a good dog parent.  I also woke up early – did my writing – did some work – all in all, I felt like an accomplished human being.

While driving back home – Pooch and I were alone in the car – I turned to look at him.  He had the most searching look in his eyes. I smiled with such tenderness because I felt at once, loved and pitied to no end.  I know I was projecting my feelings on the poor dog but the adoration was real.  And while my heart sighed with the knowledge that my dog really does love me, I felt incredibly alone in this moment.  I had to turn my eyes back on the road – but I silently wondered the last time that a human looked at me the way my dear Pooch did.

I honestly can’t remember.

This made me sad.  Sad because longing is a powerful emotion. Sad because as a romance writer, having a powerful, earthshaking love is par for the course… or in my case, should be part of the deal.  Sad because sometimes it takes a long while for love to circle back around. Sad because I hate having to ask the universe when it will be my turn (because, of course, my love story will be epic-ly laden with kismet and lots of universe conspiring nonsense).

I have to admit – I am feeling a little bit of a pity party coming along – honestly and truly, today was not a good day for my sighing heart.

And so now I will do what every good writer does: I will sit in this feeling because I will remember it again – and maybe it will inspire me when I write.

Comraderie

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There is nothing as encouraging as watching a writer about their business.

Writers, in my opinion, have great heart.

I was so inspired yesterday by a writer who expressed so clearly the struggle to maintain a discipline – to find inspiration – to be interesting – to follow rules – to break them just at the right moment – to inject mystery and drama – to give the reader everything they did not know they needed in their imagination.

Most of all, writers are brave because they let you into their psyche, share themselves, and then let you project your view of reality and imagination into a story that they never imagined would be interpreted as it is.

I long for the day when I will be brave enough to claim myself a writer without the slightest hesitation.

Stretching

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So one of the things that I am enjoying is listening to my heart.

This is not as easy as it sounds.  It seems like the older I get, the more aware I am of the things that I think I should do or should have done or should plan to do… and on and on and on it goes. With all these noises in my head, it is really a pleasure when I can hear the little voice that expresses my true desires.  It’s an even greater pleasure when I can do the things that I really want to do.

Lately, it’s taken courage to sit down and write. I am acutely aware of how important it is to me that I do this.  I have been vocal about sharing my dream – and it’s scary because now people know! And what’s worse is that I am afraid that I will fail – and when people as me about the dream, I won’t be able to say much.  But on the other side of this courage and fear is true satisfaction.  I know that writing fills a space in my soul that needs these words and this imagination to be ignited.  It’s a little embarrassing, to be honest, for me to admit this so publicly.  But I am so proud of myself because I feel like my soul is stretching. And with every lengthening of these crouched muscles, I move closer and closer to uncovering who I really am.

Trip of a lifetime

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So I am on the trip of a lifetime. I am overcome by the beauty of nature and how easy it is to lose sight of what is important in life.  Driving through this scenic road I am incredibly humbled by the awesomeness of creation and how human beings will do everything to connect to nature.  It takes courage to pursue this call to “commune with nature.”

As we zip through these gorgeous little towns I wonder about the lives they live everyday.  Do they feel that they are a part of something bigger or grander than the little or expansive space that they occupy in time? Or it is just me who is so overwhelmed by the vastness of the space that is around me?

Lately, I feel an out of this world type of urge to respond to an inner calling.  I am scared of what it means. Usually I can take decisions easily but I find that reaching for greatness takes a lot more than I thought – than I think – that I possess.

One thing is clear.  This life that I am living is the trip of a lifetime and wouldn’t it be wonderful if I lived it extraordinarily!

On brave new things

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So I did something so brave today and it was totally not what I expected.  In this space that I voluntarily led myself, I was completely and truly vulnerable and I am not sure that I enjoyed it.

I was able to really confront myself and I am not sure I liked what I saw reflected back.

All these people who claim self love is natural clearly have not been brought up around religion, tradition, and societies built wholly on expectations that serve only to carmoflauge reality.

My experience is that it is so hard to love myself because of all these expectations I have.  And truly seeing myself is even harder.  I am more than happy to pretend that I embrace myself even when I know that my heart is far behind my mind.  And when I know that the struggle of adulthood is to make sure that mind-heart alignment is right.

What’s even harder is when what your mind believes is so much farther from what your heart reflects back.  Or to be in space where your inner person is so separated and distanced and far away from your physical self.  And to be in a place where your rational mind is so completely aware that correction to balance and alignement is a life principle – so it’s better to act than be forced to act.

Oh the fear. I am afraid.

But perhaps I am also brave.

Living the dream

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I tell you. The things that writing can teach you… it’s amazing.

The dream to be a writer that actually writes (as opposed to the other kind that is seemingly in a perpetual state of writer’s block) is one that I have longed to live for a while now.  I finally had a breakthrough a few weeks ago.

It was like magic. I was not sure what triggered it – but it was everything I dreamed it would be.   The writing was flowing from secret place inside.  It is effortless.  I do not have to push myself, threaten my ego, or google “how to write while having a strenuous day job” like fifteen thousand times. And wow isn’t it glorious? I am totally happy. Fulfilled. And all that jazz.

So I was waxing about the life lessons from this experience and it’s as simple as profound truths often are… I need to trust myself and the inner magic that fires up my dream.

Fresh start

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I once met a guy whose life’s work has been about keeping things fresh.  That’s not what this post is about.  (I just chuckled).

This post is about me starting again.

Writing is risky business and sometimes I get my ego bruised. And then I go into hiding.  This is my umpteenth start.  I suspect there will be many more stops.  And hopefully just as many starts.

It’s funny that starting again is so difficult and yet – there is nothing that gives me joy and fulfillment as to dream and to write.

I think the pressure to be excellent also gets in the way.  I get in my own way. Here’s hoping that this bout of bravery lasts and lasts and lasts.