Inspiration. I’ve been waiting around for a knock on my door, always hoping that she will arrive when most needed. She seems to come and go as she pleases, at least that’s the way it feels when I’m out of the practice of practicing in a consistent (daily) way. I get so busy with my doing list and what needs checking off. I forget the being part of myself, where I can simply and quietly be. There’s a wanting, a desire for more spaciousness in my life. Yet I can easily forget to turn off the doing list. Inspiration is always waiting around for me to arrive actually, at the doorstep of my own self.
I reach a point when my To-Do List has been checked off and my Just Being hasn’t quite arrived. This is the place where my energy becomes rapid and tight, with a few ounces of wishfulness and hope, and a big dose of desire. There’s an anxiousness that creeps into my being, makes my belly tighten, my breaths become shallow and taut, my shoulders pull up. I’m noticing this place more readily these days. There’s the constant busyness of my mind that sends rapid messages down through my blood stream to my limbs, creating a tense state of over-doing.
Here comes my dragon muse lighting a fire in my belly and insisting I sit down and do what I am doing. “10 minutes!” She emphatically chants to me….“No breakfast. 10 minutes. Write. 10 minutes. Sit and write whatever comes. Sentence after sentence…” and she hangs up laughing. As much as I want to keep laughing with her, she is right that all there is for now is the writing. No judging, no negotiating, simply allow a pen to move on the paper and words will come.
The pen has scrawled these words across the page so quickly I’ve forgotten to take a breath. Deep within there’s an old belief that if I do more, work harder, I am indispensable and worthy of love. This realization came to me recently in a meditation retreat. Tears fell through my closed eyes as I felt the weight of that realization and how long I have carried that believe around within me. I am learning to hold myself with more kindness and gentleness now. I am practicing taking the time to notice what sensations and feelings I am experiencing as they arise.
Spaciousness. A wide open field. Crisp air entering my nostrils. The stillness of an early morning lake. Quiet. This is the place I am coming back home to. Pausing. Breathing. Placing my hand over my heart. Closing my eyes and feeling the sensations from within. Laying on the ground and opening my eyes to the sky. This is how I come back home. Slowing. Slowly slowing down my in breath. Holding it for a glimpse of the emptiness in the space between and slowly slowly releasing the breath.
I come back to tending my being. Inspiration is here, in the spaciousness, in the allowing and pausing and the putting pen to paper at any moment, and the picking up the camera or paint brush and moving to where I am moved. To take a deep intoxicating breath is to tend the life force within me.