I’ve been remiss! My December and January posts sit in my tablet, half-finished, awaiting perfection before I could ever possibly make them public. They weren’t quite polished, or brilliant, or funny or whatever enough for me to share them with you, and so I shared nothing at all. Do you ever do this? Stall or fail to reach goals because what you have to offer right now doesn’t seem “good enough?” Thankfully, a few things have pulled me out of my frozen state.
One: the sheer and simple fact that I am due to deliver a baby in less than a month. This is often what shakes us out of immobility, no? Pressure. The fire under the ass. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never get to it!
Two: my wonderful friend Paige Baldwin started an inspiring blog of her beautiful writings, in which part of her challenge to herself is to keep the posts 500 words or less, and weekly. She writes beautiful little musings on meditation, healing, creativity…and much more. You should check her out.
Three: a lovely writing by Mark Nepo that I’ve been sharing all week. With a theme in mind, I often search his book “The Book of Awakening” for good quotes to begin or end my yoga classes. This week I simply held the book to my heart, asked what I should share, and came upon a most appropriate passage:
I saw a woman singing while pregnant and imagined how the rhythms of song affected the life forming within her; imagined the song drawing her unborn child’s soul closer to its time in this world, the way light works on a root strengthening underground. I watched her sing and realized that the life within her was growing inside the song. I looked around the room, for we were in a circle of song, and everyone’s singing was bringing their soul closer to its time in the world. The nervous man was less nervous while singing, and the insecure woman next to me was relaxing her unworthiness as she sang, and I was able to drop my replaying of wounds while my mouth was open and my eyes closed. It was then I realized that regardless of the words or the melody, this effort to song is a way to open the passageways between what is growing within and what is growing without. I now believe it is important that we sing while pregnant with out dreams and troubles and want of truth and love. Important that we attend our little seed of spirit with the same care we would offer an unborn life forming within us. Essential that we care for our unique body as a carrier of life magically forming within us as we make our way through our days.
So it turns out we are all pregnant. Pregnant with half-formed expressions that sit awaiting our recognition, craving birth, whether we find them polished or brilliant or funny, or flawed and embarrassing. (I will birth those two blog posts shortly, remembering that “perfection” is not the goal of my expressions, and is indeed an illusion.)
What is it that lies within you, desiring recognition? What seeds grow, tiny and fertile, to be nurtured? Which seeds have grown, and now call to you for assistance in their passage, ready for a life outside of yourself?