I’m writing but only in the sense that words are standing next to one another in a line across the screen.
They mock me with their blankness. I knock them over backwards.
I construct another little wall of letter-soldier-figures, punching them into place and they march, left to right, single file as I’ve instructed.
But they won’t speak on my command; empty words have nothing to say.
What could I possibly have to say that would matter anyway (my dark-matter mind would like to know)? Maybe nothing. Maybe that’s why I can feel an emerging sense of tension in my whole being, like a rope being stretched so tight it’s fraying.
Pulling from the right: ‘You rock, keep going!’ – – pulling from the left: ‘You are the biggest fool, knock it off.’
It doesn’t matter our level of talent or accomplishment or failure or prowess, whatever your art, whatever your practice, whatever your craft, at some point self-doubt will creep in.
The only way past him is serious determination.
“Confidence is a static state. Determination is active. Determination allows for doubt and for humility — both of which are critical in the world today. There is so much that we don’t know, and so much that we know we don’t know. To be overly confident or without doubt seems silly to me. Determination, on the other hand, is a commitment to win, a commitment to fight the good fight.”
Try as I might to tune in, I can sense I’m not vibing with the Thing, the Muse, the Energy. And the straining pressure-thread growing in my mind tightens – like a gristly, spindly rope twisted and pulled so taught it could slice your skin. Thought by self-defeating thought, one by one, the million tiny fibers begin to split.
In an effort to try to stop the frazzling of my sanity, I take my sorry self into meditation. Writing is a spiritual offering for me and if I can’t get aligned with my inner Guide, I can’t create anything meaningful.
Me: Help me, Love, I’m freaked. I have nothing to give, I can’t get there. I’m worried my stuff is no good and people will reject me.
Love: Don’t be so arrogant.
Me: . . . wait, what the . . . ?
Love: Don’t be so arrogant. You have so much to learn. Get your humble on.
Me: Ok, ok I got you.
When we are paralyzed by the fears of ‘not good enough’ and of ‘what if this doesn’t work’ we tend to think it’s because we are being humble or realistic or modest. That somehow to be humble is to hold back the hope of our light. So the stuff we could offer in love gets pulled inward and hidden.
But holding back our love is arrogance. It’s putting our ego first instead of love first. It’s giving our ego the power to keep us small instead of love the power to make us grand.
” . . . your function here is to be the light of the world . . . it is only the arrogance of the ego that induces you to regard yourself as unworthy of the task assigned to you by God.”
– A Course In Miracles
Humility is to create out of genuine love – for ourselves and others. In humility we stop worrying about where we rank or if we’ll be accepted. Serving up our art humbly means trusting that we have a light that needs to shine and all we need to do is let it.
Words – both spoken and penned – have energy. Everything we take the time to create has energy: the energy of love or the energy of fear; the energy of service or the energy of separation.
It matters where the words come from.
The things we tell ourselves in our minds are like a million thought-threads weaving into form what we offer the world. Some threads make up the pattern of our Eternal Mind, they are spun of the stuff of our divine fabric and cannot be undone or destroyed. We know these silken threads because they are all that remain after the nonsense is cleared away. These are the threads of peace, joy, inspiration, generosity and love.
The other threads, though, are the ones we spin of our own egoistic fears – the brittle spindles of arrogance, attack and self-doubt. We spend too much time – much too much time, dear ones – churning out threads like these. The world encourages us to do this by ranking and stacking us, propping up the illusion of competitions and comparisons, causing us to spin out the ropes that bind our precious gifts.
But just as we can always free ourselves by remembering our divine pattern, we can also become alert for the ways in which we tie ourselves up with fear. We can recognize the threads of ego by how they feel forming inside, wrapping rough around our minds and hearts and stomachs as we try desperately to understand, to get past them, to know ourselves, to create.
To get back into alignment.
The 1st draft is what you actually manage to get on paper. The rough draft is all the shit in your head trying to stop you. #amwriting
— Allison Marie (@GloryBegin) April 7, 2015
Just before this post was written I could feel the final fiber of that wretched mind-thread snap.
In my arrogance, I had thought it was the thread that held me together.
In my humility, I could see it was the thread that held me back.
~ ~ ~
Hi angel, new here? Subscribe by email at the top of this page so you don’t miss out on updates and exclusive content (never junk, only grooviness – promise).
Friends! Let’s hang out on Facebook: Allison Marie ;)