Facing Fear and Finding Balance

The Smith River yesterday, from Hwy. 199

Okay. Because my absence from posting here was purposeful (as opposed to oblivious---and I've had those kinds of absences, too), my return reminds me of childhood fears of unworthiness and of facing the fact that no one is focused on the energies and rhythms of your own life as much as yourself (and rightfully so).

I am prone to becoming overwhelmed, which is easy to have happen, especially since I've been reinventing my life since having retired when I turned 55 at the end of 2008 and moving almost 2500 miles away from all family and friends. When the slate's been cleared like that, you can drown in the depth of possibility (the number of books and blogs to read, movies to watch, projects to complete, places to travel, healing to happen. . . ).

But if I can manage to be patient enough to allow the water to clear a bit around me (no mean feat for me), the reasons for continuing a practice (such as maintaining a blog) can begin to pop up around me and I find them, well, lifesaving, even.

My tendency is to set up extremes from which to find a balance between. One extreme might be losing oneself in the endlessly interesting realm of taking in information and inspiration from others online, living one's life as if projected into The Next Blog Entry, The Next Photograph to Share, THE NEXT, oblivious to what is happening NOW.

The other extreme might be living as a hermit, not focused on sharing my life but on living it.

But those are the extremes. The balance is a joyful overflow of sharing, of the beauty of writing that is tasting life twice (Anais Nin), and the clarity that can come from learning what I think by seeing what I say (E.M. Forster). And while I'm spouting some of my favorite quotes, I may as well end on a Beatles summary: "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love . . . you make." Balance.