Today as I was scrambling around in my head trying to make sense out of the contents of my mind, it dawned on me that I am currently long on self-doubt and procrastination and short on purpose, perseverance, and action. As a “shut-in” along with the rest of the world during this historic pandemic, there is not much to do now except to sit down and look within to see where I can make a few in-flight corrections.
As I sit and stare at my current state of mind, I am reminded of a time many years ago when, during a time of meditation, I was given a set of instructions.
“Make a commitment to write!”
“Write what?” I asked? “Anything!” came the response.
Let the dialog begin! Apparently, it is no accident that this blog is titled “Voices in my Head”.
After days of resistance and repeated cajoling from whoever or whatever that Voice is, I gave in and sat down in front of a keyboard and stared at a blank piece of paper and wrote anything. Astes erwoi 9 hhta the cow jumped over the moon.
After many hours of cows and moons, there emerged a writing adventure called Conversations with Myself. Conversations was a journal, a daily dialogue betwixt me, myself, and I, and the committee in my head that vied for power over who was to be in control. It was often a fascinating dialogue.
The writing was intensely personal and self-revealing, written with the hope that perhaps the revelation of my personal journey and inner battle with myself could help, uplift, and inspire others who shared similar struggles to make their way easier.
Sometimes I would muster up the courage to show it to a trusted friend or two. Always the response was encouraging and positive, but when I sent it out to one publisher it was rejected. After that, I gave up and Conversations made its way into a carton that was buried deep within the recesses of a closet and my mind, along with any delusions of thinking that my various voices and mind wanderings would ever serve as a tool for helping others like myself. Eventually it was sucked into the jaws of a passing trash truck and was lost and gone forever. Fear became the winner in that fray.
Decades have passed since those days and yet sometimes I still do battle with myself over one thing or another. Today it’s about not living up to my own potential. There is not a soul alive on the planet who is not born with certain gifts and talents. I know that I am a writer and I am not using that gift to the fullest extent possible. So, today in the midst of this pandemic, my game plan is to dust off my writing skills and just do it. No more hiding out in the closet for me! If only one person gains benefit from the various voices in my head, then I can cross “live up to potential” off my list, at least in one small area of my life.
Today is a new day. It is the perfect time to begin again with an updated purpose and refreshed commitment to resume Conversations. From past experience I know that sometimes my commitments are strong and powerful and sometimes they’re a little shaky. If I’m not back tomorrow, I’m going to need a few prayers. All help gratefully accepted.
Meanwhile, I ask you to consider that the old will be gone forever, and invite you to let the promise of a New Age blossom in your heart and spark your imagination to create a vision of how you would like the world to be when this is all over. Together we can make it so.
Please be well in heart, mind, body, and spirit.
With love from me and the cacophony of voices in my head, Julia
(Photo and meme courtesy of New Waves of Light (nwol.us). Please feel free to share.