risk

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December 31st, 2009

ISO set to 1000 and aperture at 1.4, I risk taking a really crappy picture. “I don’t want to get up out of my chair right now”, I exclaim. “I don’t want to take a picture!” But the voice/force that is not yet done speaking, that is not yet done ‘using’ me, pulls me up out of my chair with a heave and sends me to fish my camera out from it’s snug Christmas trip packing. I did not go quietly, I complained bitterly as I shuffled into the living room and retrieved what I was commanded to.

Some days it is not a matter of feeling the inspiration but of stepping aside so that the stampede of thoughts can come thru. It builds up behind the dam of noise and daily living until I sit quiet, long enough for it to squeak a pinky toe in and then it’s all over...I really have no choice but to let it finish.

So now I sit... photographing a pile of yellow papers in the dwindling daylight letting ‘it’ finish.

It started nudging through as I walked home from my morning cup of coffee. Snow sloshing under my feet, the words started to form. “Argh, not again! Why are you coming now? Can you not wait until I get home? I have no way to record you right now.” So Instead of my usual process of allowing it all to form and sweetly mingle right then and there... only to evaporate. I tried something new. I asked it to come back when I could give it a voice. Something I learned from watching Elizabeth Gilbert in the TED talks. {she is brilliant}

To my surprise...it backed off.
--

Now sitting at my small desk, distant jazz thumping in the background and a world of white expanding before me I give ‘it’ a voice.

"Come thru the winter light of my window. Come thru the scratchy sound of my pencil against the paper. Now is your time. Now what would you say?"

I look out.

Lavender clouds drift. Robins flit & perch trying to regain the comfort of spring. A Train whistle blows. The soft snore of a sleeping kitten shushes the room. All combine to wrap my brain in a cushion of color and push my hand to write.

Fingers pressed hard to hold the paper steady. My thoughts leap and bang against each other until they tumble one by one onto the page. They have been silenced for so long, that they trip over themselves getting out of the starting gate and then heap into a puddle before me. My task now, to assemble them into some reasonable order.

--
40. 40 is on the way. A fact that has not totally gone un-noticed by me. But nonetheless a fact that I seem to be in a shocking bit of denial about. It is barreling down on me like a heard of bison across the plain and I say, “Did you hear that? Did you hear that quiet, soft squeaky noise..? “

Don’t get me wrong, I am excited for 40. I am beyond thrilled to be out of my 30’s. I didn’t like going into them, being in them, or even the sound of them. They were the hardest years of my life. But somehow the excitement of turning 40 is being beaten back by my reality. My life at 39 does not fit the expected reality of 40.

It’s not that I am not where I thought I would be, although I am not, it is more that I am not living the collective vision of what I SHOULD be doing or have accomplished by 40. I have to admit to myself, to my family, to the society at large that I don’t fit the 'mold'.

But ‘fit’ or not, this is what and who I am right now. This is who I bring into this new year, to this new moon appearing and disappearing behind the blur of dark clouds.

I take a breath and look up to see the stack of paper before me heaped against my cup. They are my manifest. This voice inside that pushes until I absolutely have no choice but to let it come out. Whatever fever this is that takes my hand and pushes me to write, it is no longer willing to lay silent. Through scratching pencil, clacking keyboard, smooth goosh of pen on paper... how ever, when ever, now ever... it will be expressed.

So what do I want for myself as the new/blue moon rises on my 39th Winter? I want a life of joy, a life filled with the rush of expectancy, discovery and awe. I want a life of Truth. To know the Truth of me. To look on this world with God’s eyes. To get angry, to be hurt...to laugh, to love.. To feel it all and not silence any aspect of it. I want to live through my fear. To know it will come but that it does not have to dictate my direction. I want to take risks.. to try when I do not know the outcome. To do.

I want to be completely grounded and playful on this earthly plane as well as steeped in the mystical realm of the universe. I want to be in possession of the ability to plan. I want to have the freedom that great amounts of money will bring, but I do not wish to pursue it.

I wish to pursue my joy, my vision, my laughter, my love. I wish to share this vibration of awe that washes over me.


-deep breath-

I look at again at my ever growing pile of yellow & ‘lead’ and feel my heart skip a beat. The light spilling in through my window is breath taking... The colors, the shapes, the glow of the whole scene makes me slightly giddy. I can taste it.

As I shift my gaze past the pile of papers, I see the once snow peaked rooftops exposed as the last tastes of snow slip to the ground.

Trees born bare, exposing what thru the flourish of death we could not see. There is a peace in winter, a hush and a stillness that gives rest to a world busy with itself. It is as much of a gift as the cornucopia of summer and the splashy boldness of fall. It brings me to a place of hushed reverence, of darkness and exploration that in the spring, will bloom.

This is the winter of my 39th year. And I am ok with that.

As I sit letting the last bits trickle thru, I hope. I hope that you know... wherever you are, you are enough.. Whoever you are, you are a gift. I hope that you live this life as though you matter, because you do...more than you can ever know. No one sees like you, no one feels this life as you do. Share it with the world and we are all the richer.

So much love, light & play I wish for you.

In Gratitude,

Heaven