it is story that centers us in our beliefs, in our world, in the progression of past, present and future. . . the threads that stitch us back into our contract and our place, a portion of life’s crucial lessons handed down through the inheritance of craft more than genes. . . to walk in gratitude, forever, together. . .
Sometimes my days are hoisted up and appropriated by others, and at the end, I wonder---what happened? Time slips through my fingers like water some days, and I wonder whether this water quenched any thirst since it appeared to leave no trace other than in my mind. Living deliberately, with intention, with balance and focus on what matters isn't so easy----especially when our habits have been long-established. Though I never watched much, I've given up television entirely (we don't even have a connection), but I still rent movies on occasion, and sometimes my choices are disappointing and I'm left wondering whether even they are a waste of my time.
After having spent 25 years working in an 8 to 5 job, it's not so hard to figure out why I'm having difficulty with focusing on what I want to spend my time doing now. . . Rather than having my weekdays laid out for me, my calendar is clear except for the penned-in days when I look after my granddaughter or when I go to the little writing group I've joined, walk to yoga, or join the committee planning the next writers' conference in our town. I even walked to the library the other evening with Jon, who played a couple of his own songs on guitar, and I read a couple of my poems, something I'd never have considered doing not that long ago----before I realized I was withholding my best self out of fear----fear that not only was I not "worthy" but also that my audience wasn't. It feels so good to let go of those fears. How did I do it? To borrow from BOLT, a movie I enjoyed with almost-5-year-old Emma: I put it aside, stuck a pin in it, and left it behind.
Around these planned events, I find myself joining this online "tribe," which is rich and varied, yet still doesn't address my basic need: to work to bring out my own . . . what? . . . essence? . . . true self? . . . art?. . . being? . . . purpose?
Of the tribe members I've visited electronically, Jane's Medicine Tree is most like my own yearnings----to create an imaginative world of art, writing, music, that is yet in touch with Earth, water, fire, air----the sacred connections that give (or, to use my newly-favored changing of that verb to a noun/verb of Wolf's) gift others and ourselves.
Yes. It's planning I need, a weaving of intention with openness.
