Taking a First Step

This is from a journal entry November 17, 2019 I wrote in a laundromat in downtown San Francisco after completing the PSI7 retreat in High Valley, California. I committed to myself that this would be my first post on my blog even though I don’t think it’s any good.

I have been putting this off for a very long time and tonight, I am keeping my commitment to post it before the end of this weekend. I’ve danced around the task of blogging for far too long by letting fear win and am feeling a familiar panic now that I’m actually typing this out. I’m acknowledging that part of me who is feeling small and scared and not good enough, telling her we can do this anyway. Also helpful is listening to the retreat play list which is bringing back memories and tears of gratitude. I am remembering that I am brave and courageous enough to move through things that scare me. That and feeling the strength, love and support of Team #588 (my team of 48 from the retreat) standing behind me with their support and encouragement that they’ve got me. So here we go….

I had all these amazing insights and understandings while laying in bed this morning but thought I’d wait til I got to the laundromat to write them down. And to my horror, they’re gone! The potency of what was coming through is gone. I’m not sure if they’ve been dispersed throughout the Universe or into someone else’s head or deep in the hollows of my body but they aren’t here now. The moment has passed and I can’t get it back. Like so many other things in my life I’ve waited on or put off or shoved aside due to fear, desire for comfort and self-imposed limitations. I’m sure the wisdom still resides somewhere inside me but it won’t be expressed out into the world as it could have had I taken action in the moment and followed the inspiration then.

And yet here I am writing something else despite the voices saying “You’ll never get that moment back, taking action is rewarded, procrastination=regret, you never do what you’ll say, you’ll be stuck forever, etc.” Got it. Life moves on with or without me and I don’t want to continue to give those voices the chance to natter at me about lost opportunities and not living my purpose so I’m in this moment now.

I notice all the places I’m coming up against my resistance and the discomfort in my body now that I have made a decision and am taking action. Go put more money in the dryer even though it’s not yet done, check my phone to see if there are any important messages that can’t wait until I’m done, see what’s up on Facebook in the past few minutes and in general stand here bewildered waiting to be struck by literary inspiration that will move the masses.

Hmmm. Why is this resistance so strong? What’s it trying to do for me? Well, frankly…. I’m fucking scared. Scared that I’m a shit writer and have nothing profound to say. Telling myself I’m not capable, creativity hasn’t streamed through me in forever and that there are so many people out there doing it much better, so why try? I fear I’m not doing it right, that I don’t have enough talent and skills to make anything of this. I feel anxious and sad. Restricted, stuck. Trying to write something profound while feeling terribly unprofound, lacking, not enough.

STOP! Deep breath. Stand up. Wonder Woman pose. Yep, right in the middle of the laundromat while some rando dude is taking his clothes out of the washer probably wondering if I took my meds today.

OK, I got this. One more step forward. A commitment to make this my first blog post even though I’ve said pretty much nothing except invite you into my chaotic mind for a few moments and exposed you to my inner symphony of negative critics who don’t shut up for more than two minutes. They’re saying this post is crap. Any maybe it is. But why not keep going anyway? I’m sure many of you reading this can relate to all the limits swirling around in our heads when we are about to bust out of our comfort zones and away from the stories of we think we are.

This is the real work and I’m in it. I’m in my real work. I’m getting clearer by going into my stories and patterns and challenging them, not trying to obliterate them. Ok, let’s be real. I am still very much trying to stuff them down and make them go away like unwanted pimples but it’s ok. I’ll keep resetting and coming back to the moment. I’ll commit to practicing my craft and it will get easier with time as I develop new neural pathways. My writing will get better as I tap into all these storehouses I’ve kept locked up to live in a box that no longer fits.

I’m the lion pressing against a cage that’s become too small. If I ignore the voices saying ‘who do you think you are’ and get really real, I know that I am a messenger meant to help and heal. I have unique skills and abilities. Even if there are others doing or saying the same thing, no one offers what I do because there is only one of me just as there is only one of you with your own unique gifts and talents.

I’ve channeled profound messages, watched my thoughts turning into things, looked into people’s souls and held the mirror up to who they really are, overcome so many of my own fears and limitations, and spread love all around. Why keep denying the power inside?

I’ve always been an avid reader and if those authors had never had the courage to write and tell their stories or push through their limitations, I would have missed out on so much that helped me through dark times, brought hope, educated, inspired, and awakened insights within me. What if someone needs to read what I have to write to help change their life? What if someone needs the medicine I carry within for their healing and hope? What if my soul needs to do this for self-expression and to move forward?

So here we are. Blog post #1. The first step towards many more. I may have lost moments before, but I stayed awake this time to write, ramble and challenge myself. It’s a start. What else is possible?!

Let me know, where have you come up against your resistance? What have you been putting off due to fear and the voices in your head that say you’re incapable or not enough? Where are you still living in the boxes others gave you?