Day 45
bird
For the first time in my life, I see the shape of a path emerging. It is not very defined yet, more like the trail a deer might make in the tall grass as she moves toward water. That kind of path is easy to miss unless you are moving slow. These last weeks have given me the opportunity to move more slowly as an artist. A lifetime of habits and patterns that revolve around anything other than my desire to write, have pulled me away from this path many times. Discipline is giving me the confidence to step onto this vague path toward the stream.
As I commit to this path, I feel afraid all of the time. Fear is just behind me, always whispering that I don’t know what I am doing, that I could fall, fail, disappoint myself and others. But, I’m getting to old to listen to fear.
All paths have obstacles, all of them intersect with pain. All paths are leading into the unknown, because no matter what the advertising promises you, there are no guarantees. We, like every other living thing, must follow our instincts. We have to listen to our bodies, our desires, our needs; we can know ourselves if we are patient. Time itself offers the gift of wisdom that comes from witnessing the failures and successes of others, and from leaning in to our own desires. Fear is a companion that can save your life, but we sometimes have to ask her to be quiet so we can hear our own selves talk.
Besides the fear, I also am accompanied by the women who came before me and pursued their own passions while learning to integrate their roles as mothers, wives, sisters, friends, daughters. I am also accompanied by the creatures that effortlessly follow their instincts to warmer climates, mating grounds, water.
Also, there is the creative force of life itself, what I call the Divine, that infuses each step I take with meaning and mystery. This is my closest ally, my whisperer, my beloved muse. Like a bird on my shoulder, the Divine stays close. I am learning to move in such a way that she is not disturbed, learning to be guided by the gentle promptings of her ruffling feathers.
