2: Writing to Write

15 Days of Sharing

Today I found a break in my day to write and while I didn't know if I could "get into the zone" in such a short amount of time, I found that indeed I could. All I needed was a little space and I soon found myself diving into something beautiful, a place that I could have easily ignored. 

12:43 pm - 1:02 pm

Sneaking in word creation and thought exploration before work world beacons me to return. Not sure how dedicated or deep I can go, though I thought, "I'll never know if I don't try." That seems to be my motto (maybe mantra or intention is more fitting?), because when it comes down to it, if it's truly something I've never done before, how can I with full absolution know I can't do it? The answer is, I can't. So I make a choice, give it a try and see how it goes.

Poem: A Break In The Day

See me, this continual learner.

Though not measured by a degree or title,

My learnings of life and love and myself

Come from the support of, well, God and the Universe.

Here on this earth to honor my voice, once stifled with fear.

This heart sings rather loudly when passion is ignited and it's up to me to share the songs.

No one else hears them, at least not how I do.

And if I keep them pushed under ruble, what gifts will be missed?

So I'll try, even if it's me doing this for 10 minutes out of my day, I'll try.

Write... about confidence (and the places where I "think" my way too deeply into "thinking I don't have enough")

Write... about truth (and the places I hide if all is revealed too quickly)

Write... about happiness (and the balance needed, found only in honoring all emotions, not just the fluffy ones)

Write... about all the pieces of my soul that I love (and the pieces that I work to love a little more)

This Writer's Heart

No longer waits for wings of inspiration to lift me above the ordinary to see the extraordinary.

No longer says, "oh, I only write when..."

Craving freedom, perspective and passion, as the page fills with details,

I remember words matter less, it's the action.

It's walking the walk and talking the talk. (Sure, that lines been said before, it was maybe even an elementary school motto I heard growing up in my central Minnesota home).

Though it's true isn't it?

That if I want others to be inspired,

to honor their essential selves,

to break out of the cages of conformity

to stop hiding,

to know they are beautiful, whole and wise

Then I, here and now must do the same.

Write... about being vulnerable (here's where the truest healing is found)

Write... about running in (or away from moments)

Write... about choosing to labor through the birth of a new creation (knowing it comes when it is ready)

The Labor of Creation

We enter this world when we are ready.

Not when the woman whose womb we've been nurtured in says so.

No, we come when it is our time.

And even though my physical body hasn't conceived and given birth,

I have indeed birthed many creations.

And these creations didn't happen at times of convenience, rather they came when they were ready (and some part of me was ready too!)

My creations entered the world and it's up to me to support them.

Sleepy nights brought forward the dream of me laboring a new creative project (and truly a gift to myself).

As I felt into the experience, the pulls and pushes, the breaths and waiting - the trusting.

Hidden in a basement (where it would seem, in my dreams, the deeper healings occur)

There were people and when recognition came, it wasn't who I thought it would be.

Aware that their presence was of comfort and support in dream life, in waking life, it was the polar opposite.

It's weird how dreams switch these around, how the hurts or mistrust can shift to reveal something new.

Maybe, the gift in this dream, is that I got to see how deep down they care?

And maybe though our waking life interactions feel frail, there is something there?

This dream, it allowed me to see the gift. That had it not been for the waking day experiences and feelings of inadequacy, I wouldn't have been able to conceive and labor through to deliver a new and beautiful creation. And maybe (alright, really) I wouldn't have been able to without them.

Write... about being grateful (even for feelings of having been hurt)

Write... about what one does with the details of a quieted heart (in the waking life of the day)

Write... about how inspiration and creation can come (especially from something ugly and hurtful)

Write... about when humanity and compassion (or the lack there of, throws me into myself, that I thud in the basement of my darkest space and it's up to me, to find my way out and see what it really is, a gift)

Write... about how sometimes it's all I can do (to write these words and say thank you)

With Love, Jan