My writing went underground in this last month of frost. Nothing was making its way to the surface. There was a lot of taking in and processing but I couldn’t connect any dots or formulate anything coherent on the page. It got close to being disconcerting- but that tendency to go straight to being uncomfortable in my skin because I was not producing, creating, thrilling the world was all too easy. I didn’t want to go there. So instead I started to inquire, to ask some questions.
Who am I if I am not what I see myself to be? What sense of myself lies underneath all the feedback I desire from those around me? When is it okay to not be growing and expanding? Where is the space to sit with each moment of the process to relieve the need to be producing results? Why do I have to have a reason, excuse or judgment ready to assuage the fear of having nothing to show for, nothing in a tangible form?
Bottom line: It’s easy to overlook the presence of what we can’t see. We have come to rely on what is solid, repeatable, validated. So in these last few weeks of winter we are invited into an active practice of tuning in, being patient and trusting wholeheartedly that, although they may be unseen, our efforts are here, we are here. Nothing is absent. Within all the gathering, condensing and organizing that is happening under the surface, we are fully present and accounted for.