Safety comes from facing our terror.
Put that down. It can wait.
It can. I promise.
I know I know. It feels very PRESSING, ALL-CONSUMING, a requirement for getting to the other stuff, a pre-requisite to attain that clear, strong, focused mental/emotional/spiritual state once EV-ER-Y-THING is taken care of, sorted, organized, cleaned, straightened up, checked-off.
Feel your feet on the ground.
Feel the space between the top of your head and the base of your spine. Just notice.
(I usually hate when people tell me to breathe. SHUT UP I AM BREATHING. It feels as if they are trying to Shut Me Down. I’m saying it for the opposite reason. I’m saying it to Open You Up.)
Listen: we may think we’re in this one world but we’re actually always brushing against another, unseen world. We get to move between these two worlds: the Mystical and the Matter of Fact, the Ethereal and the Elemental, the Extraordinary and the Ordinary.
We get to cross the threshold and return with something.
That’s our job, if you will.
It’s how we remind each other (and ourselves) of our interconnectedness, our holy union, our divine ground with the creative spark that lives in every one of us.
It doesn’t have to be HUGE, this thing we discover, create, return with. It doesn’t have to make a SPLASH. It doesn’t have to WIN AWARDS.
It only asks that we turn and face the thing that calls to us (and scares us). Why does it scare us? Because we don’t know what it is yet. How could we?
We can’t know until we begin.
I can’t know what I’m going to write until I start writing. I can’t know what I’ll paint until I start painting. I can’t know what I’ll say until I start talking. I can’t know where I might go until I start walking.
We don’t have to do it all at once. In fact, we, quite literally, can’t.
We chunk it out. We break it down. We make a list. We pick one actionable step that we can take right now.
The smaller the better.
Sometimes it’s as simple as just putting our ass where our heart wants to be.
Get on the floor to stretch for five minutes.
Go out the door to walk around the block. One block.
Drive to the gym. You don’t have to go in, just drive there.
Get those art supplies out of the back of the closet.
Clear off one patch of your desk or dining room table.
Re-read that old poem, outline, story start.
Put down the sponge, the phone, the tweezers and do nothing.
Daydream. For three minutes.
Beginnings are humble and monumental. They happen in an instant. Remember, small = powerful, because if it feels manageable, we’ll do it and keep doing it.
Sustainable beats splashy everytime.
So, Dear Reader, (you know what I’m going to say, right?) what teeny tiny step can you take right now?
Do it and then tell me about it. I’d love to know!