January: What If You’re Too Tired to Begin?

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Artist: Flora McLachlan

Starting right were you are is often a great place to begin. How else to move forward? What would arise if you invited your weariness to speak?

For full details on this prompt, visit: https://writingandhealing.atavist.com/months-1-2#chapter-752892

So often I find myself wanting to be somewhere else. Feeling something else other than what and where I am. What a guarantee for suffering. To want things to be other than they are. Even now, as the sun shines after days of rain, I am repelled by it, wanting the clouds and rain to be here instead. I’m not ready for sun and the emotions it implies.

For months I have been feeling varying levels of low, and I feel fortunate to be able to pin-point why. Several reasons, layered upon others, and of course, I would end up feeling this way. The inertia is both comforting and frustrating. The “shoulds” appear physically and cognitively. I should go out more. I should be more active. I should…should…should… All this does is birth regret and physical pain.

What I have is a constant desire to nest. To curl in a ball on top of soft pillows, covered in soft blankets, and sleep. In a clean space free of dust, dirt, and clutter. Clean air that is not too cold, nor too warm. Instead, I claim the couch as my safe place to shut the world out.

Today, like most days, my head feels congested and weighted. My body is heavy and tired. Its aches and pains seem premature, which worries me. I feel like an echo of my father this time last year. Is this my way to being in relationship with him? Communing with him? Or just what happens when what you knew, and hoped for, is chipped away? Like most things it’s probably all of the above.

Since nesting is the preparation for new life, I can say I have been here before. But if I pull that thread I’m off into thinking of what the new life is,  rather than being in the now. I suppose hope has it’s purpose. To hold on and stay adrift in the mystery of what is to become. So I come back to now, and allow what is.

This is the place where I write from this morning. Exactly as it is.

 

 

January: Freewriting

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Today’s activity is a free-write, which I chose to do this morning with a set time of 10 minutes. For more details on this exercise go to: http://writingandhealing.org/2006/08/16/writing_and_hea_1-11

Setting aside time to free-write feels daunting even though there is a sense of liberation in it. What do I write about? Where will my stream of consciousness lead me? Maybe that is the bigger fear. Anyhow here it is and I am doing just that. Letting what ever wants to be said and written just be. As a child I wrote to the limited capacity that I could. I liked to make books based on storied read in class, or make books on things I liked, But it wasn’t until later, my pre-teen and teen years where the writing took more space. I think it’s common for adolescents to find comfort in writing because it is a vehicle for voice, something that teens have so fiercely and yet adults in their lives try to extinguish or tame. So writing allows for the intense creativity and voice to be present. There is something about those years where child-like creativity and fantasy meets energy and manifestation. What powerful years. What powerful energy. There is a naive bravery about adolescents that I wish I still had. Years have done it’s work on me. I’m so much more cautious than before. So much more doubtful. I wonder what the middle ground is? Because in youth there is a powerful energy that will not be containing It runs into the street and jumps off bridges, and exists in action. People would consider that manic to be so bold. Why does that scare people? So this writing journey is a way for me to not lose touch with that safe and liberating space of voice and creativity. Because being an adult is so full of responsibility, which I welcome even though I complain about it. By nature I am driven, but too much of that burn me out and creativity allows for that respite and replenishing. What can I do to keep moving through creativity  so that I don’t burn out? Writing can also provide insight and space to release those things in me that I hold back. I notice I d that a lot. Which is strange because I’ve been doing it for so long, I only just now realized how much I keep locked inside me. I live in my head and I like it there. It’s enticing and hard to let go of. The outside world feels flat and boring and lackluster compared to the world in my mind. If I do it enough, and am not careful, I assume others are on board with my agenda. It’s like I forget to include others into my internal conversations, plans, and such. It feels so loud in here and hard to express sometimes. Most times. So getting all this out of me on paper or with voice, is a part of my own healing. That and insight.