Jump out of an airplane and free fall through my fear? Yikes! That’s exactly how it felt on that February day in 2018 when I took my heart in my hands and pushed the publish button on my very first blog.
First time anything’s can be terrifying—the first day of school, a new job, or meeting face to face with an online date. Brian Hannon’s blog, Birth of a Blogger, catapulted me back to the moment when I decided that it was about time to take the leap across the chasm of fear and face the unknown by starting a blog—then muster up the courage to push the publish button. Double yikes!
My launch into the blogging world was particularly frightening because my writing style is often personal and self-revealing. Occasional self-deprecation leads readers to wonder if I’m joking to make a point, or if I’m serious, or check all of the above. It opens the door for readers to view my ramblings through the lens of their own inner vision, which can lead to various interpretations of who they think I am. Sometimes they get it right—sometimes not. Sometimes I don’t get it right myself and that’s okay, because through it all, I have learned that no matter what others may think of me, it is only important what I think of myself.
I invite you to take a trip across the chasm of fear into faith, knowing that no matter what you do or how you do it, it’s all a part of a journey toward wholeness. I invite you to experience my first free fall into the unknown world of blogging. I hope you’ll tag along and enjoy the ride. Who knows—we may even meet somewhere in the open space of joy along the way.
Occasionally I am jolted awake by the sudden realization that I have been sleepwalking through my days in a full-blown funk attack. Yesterday, for example, I suddenly woke up from my somnambulism and saw that I had been duped by the voice of fear again! This time, guilt was the culprit that managed to con me into a false belief that I am a worthless, useless slug. Drat. I hate it when that happens. It always gets me when I’m not looking—when I relax the vigilance necessary to protect myself against the sneaky chokehold of fear. Ah, the human condition. When will I learn?
Last night as I was trying to drift off to sleep, the unrelenting voice of the untamed ego reared its tricky head to remind me of my many shortcomings and the things about myself that I think of as unlovable and unworthy. As a final zinger to my self-esteem, it also refreshed my memory about the plethora of undone things that I promised myself that I would do and haven’t—which, as it happens, turns out to be the source of the guilt du jour. Heaven help me!
As I wrestled with this unholy, unhealthy state of mind, I was reminded of the horrendously negative aspects of guilt. Then it dawned on me that when I allow myself to succumb to it, I am actually doing something—but what I am doing is the exact opposite of what I want to do. I am sending ever-expanding ripples of negativity and fear out into the world—and that is not the job that I signed up to do! Oops—I got it bass-ackwards again. Where is vigilance when I need it?
By allowing guilt and fear to take up residence in my head—even for an instant—I am defeating myself before I ever take my first step onto the path of good intentions. And if guilt, fear, and every other negative feeling and emotion known to humankind had an agenda, that would be it—to prevent us from gaining a foothold into a healthier direction.
Miraculously, in the space of just that one instant of recognition, guilt evaporated and the void was filled by a powerful desire to exchange a negative attitude for a positive one by flooding the Universe with light and love rather than fear and negativity. If I do nothing more than that, I have done the most important job possible. And with that thought, I drifted off to sleep in a blissful state of gratitude, and awoke this morning inspired to write a blog.
It isn’t easy to keep one’s spirits up in the face of such dire world circumstances, is it? No wonder so many are in such a funk. If left unchecked, fear and negativity spreads like a virulent cancer and silently destroys any hope of peace on earth—or within oneself.
We do ourselves and others a serious disservice by succumbing to the temptation to fall into fear, or the belief that we are less than who and what we truly are. Our TRUE service comes from finding the love and light within ourselves and each other. One light shone upon another casts the awareness that we are One, and we are Divine.
We can do it. We can create peace on earth, but first we must find it within ourselves. All we need is a little willingness, a bit of awareness, and the desire to wake up. It’s a beautiful world when we see it right-side-up—and how we choose to see it is up to each one of us.
Please add your light to the war against darkness. We can change the world—one mind, one light at a time.
Peace and love to all. Sunny side up!
Speaking of doing more, I wouldn’t be doing my jobif I didn’t give at least one quick little mention of my book, Voices. It’s chock full of them—mine, yours, ours (we all seem to have many of the same ones, have you noticed?) Please pop in here and have a quick look . Thank you! Happy voices everyone.
I’ve been off dumpster diving in old files again. I am often surprised to find bits and pieces of myself wallowing around in the trash bin, waiting to be rediscovered and reevaluated. Today, for instance I stumbled upon something I wrote a decade ago, on January 13, 2012. It’s an unwitting prelude to my most recent blog Link about New Year resolutions written just one week ago. It’s eye-opening to find myself lurking around somewhere in the past—a reminder of who I was in 2012, and who I am now, one decade later. The following was me then . . .
It’s a mighty good thing that I made a resolution to not make resolutions a while back, because if I hadn’t, I’d have disappointed myself many times over by breaking them many times over. When I think of the mind-boggling multitude of resolution possibilities that I could have made and didn’t, my eyes glaze over and I give thanks for whatever powers-that-be for snatching me out of the probable abyss of temporary insanity teetering on the brink of permanence. My decision to eschew resolutions is the wisest resolution I’ve made in this, or any other lifetime.
Just think of it. The do’s. The don’ts. Write more, eat less. Exercise more, spend less. Cook more, eat out less. Meditate more, judge less. It’s mind numbing. And guilt producing.
The other day I found myself feeling just a slight bit irritated for having allowed myself to wander away from the path of joyful inner peace. Was it non-resolutionary guilt, I wondered? I caught myself singing the Whiffenpoof song.
We’re poor little lambs who have lost our way … little black sheep who have gone astray … bah, bah, bah … doomed from here to eternity … Lord have mercy on such as we—blah blah blah.
Really? Do I really think that of myself? The very thought of such a thing sent me off into another conversation with myself.
I’m on a downhill slide.
No, you’re not. You just think you are.
I can’t seem to get myself turned around.
You just think that you can’t. You can.
I know. But I’m stuck
No you’re not.
Why do you keep denying my feelings?
Because you’re wrong.
But if I feel this way, then I feel this way. And you’re telling me that I don’t.
You may feel the way you feel, but it is a denial of the truth of who you are.
Oh. I think I get it. I’m putting emPHAsis on the wrong sylLABle—again.
Exactly. You are putting the emphasis on the false ego self that you think you are.
Fine. That’s all well and good, but I’m still stuck.
. . . And here I am now, a decade later, and happily, I’m unstuck—thanks in part, at least, to some unlikely help; a pandemic and a mishap became the catalysts that pushed me closer to the achievement of the goals I had not actually set.
Between Covid and a broken kneecap, I cook more and eat out less. Physical therapy requires exercise whether I like it or not, and when confined to the Lazygirl for days, and weeks on end, writing and meditation have become my best friends and favorite allies. Clearly, there is something to be said for a pandemic and broken kneecap. The best bonus? During my forced confinement, I wrote and published a second book after a 17-year hiatus. There are blessings in everything, if one but seeks to find.
Isn’t it strange how non-goals of years gone by became reality while I wasn’t looking? Sometimes the progress we’ve made is only visible when viewed through the lens of decades past. The True Self knows the desires of the heart, even if we don’t. All we need to do is drop the judgment we hold of ourselves and learn to trust that we will be given the answers to questions that we may not yet have asked. What we cannot do for ourselves, Higher Forces can do for us. What a blessing!
Happy New Year. Happy New Decade. May you look back upon all of your decades with satisfaction, gratitude and joy. What could be better than that?
Note: The photo above is courtesy of New Waves of Light, a website designed by anonymous individuals around the world who share the intention of bringing light and love to a world of darkness and chaos. (newwavesoflight.org or NWOL.us)
PS: I wouldn’t be true to myself if I didn’t make at least one tiny little stab at the dreaded self-promotion. It’s my most unfavorite thing to do, but successful authors everywhere say that it must be done, so I’ll do it. Bah, bah, bah. If you’d like to have a look at my new book, please press here. Thank you!
Lord have mercy me I’m doing my very first blog and putting it out there for all the world to see. I haven’t a clue about what I’m doing and I’m scaring myself stupid, but what the heck. What’s the worst thing that can happen? I think the game plan is to quit agonizing over whether it’s perfect, and just dive in and do it. It feels like something akin to stepping out of an airplane at 10,000 feet. I can do it, but that first step is a gonna be a whipdoozie.
When I was 29, a palm reader told me that I should write. “Write what?” I asked? “Anything,” she said. Huh. Never thought of myself as a writer. Okay, fine, so I’ll write. Write what, I asked myself again. Children’s books seem like a good place to start. Easy peazy, right? Well, maybe not so much . . .
So I focused my energies on acquiring the necessary accoutrements that would make a great writer out of me. Desktop computers were not yet a gleam in the eye of Bill Gates, so I had to bite the bullet and settle for a Selectric typewriter. It was way better than candlelight and an inkwell, I suppose and at least the keys didn’t get stuck together, but still . . ..
Set-up mission accomplished, I was ready. I parked myself back in my little blue meditation chair and awaited the inspiration that was surely in there somewhere. Yeah, but where? My trusty typewriter was growing cobwebs while I played the waiting game. Many months—or maybe even a year or so—passed by, and then one day I heard a compelling voice in my head command, “Get up, go sit down at your desk and write.” Bossy voice!
Again there was that pesky question, and again I asked myself, “Write what?” I dallied in my cozy little corner in a state of major resistance for a while, until finally against my will, something propelled me up and out of my comfort zone, hurled me into to my office, and plopped me down at my desk in front of my typewriter. Oh no—now what?
The voice again. “Put your fingers on the keys and just start typing.”
Type what?
Anything. The alphabet. It doesn’t matter. Just start typing.
So I started typing and I haven’t stopped since. Decades later after reams of typewritten pages, newsletters, a book and more journals that I can count, the voice returns and nags yet again. This time it is with a one-word command: BLOG.
WHAT? NO! I don’t want to!
Why not?
Because it’s a lot like work. I don’t have a clue about how to start a blog. What if nobody reads it? Worse, what if somebody I know reads it and doesn’t like it? What if I sound like a raving lunatic in need of a one-way ticket to the nearest funny farm? Furthermore, who’d want to read anything that I wrote? What’s the point? What makes me think that I have something to say that is any different or better than what anyone else wiser and cleverer has already written?
What’s different you ask? What’s different is that this is your story and it is unique. Everyone has a story, but you are the only voice that can tell yours. Every story matters. Every story is different. Every life holds value and offers gifts to those willing to hear, willing to listen. Every story is of great benefit to at least one someone else. If your story finds its way into the hands or heart of just that one, if it benefits just one life, will have been worth the effort?
Your job is to use your voice and not concern yourself with the opinions of others. The only outcome that matters is the completion of the work that you came here to do. Do you wish to reaffirm your commitment to your spiritual path and purpose? If so, it is time to take that first step, jump out of the plane, and free fall joyfully through your fears with faith enough to know that you are safe and supported even though appearances would have you believe that you are surely headed toward a crash landing.
Okay fine. I get it. It’s about time to quit wasting time and get on with it. After all, I’m not 29 anymore. And I’m not getting any younger, either. It’s definitely about time. Bossy voice.
Deep breath in — Geronimooooooo . . . YIKES! Wheeee . . .
Lord have mercy me I’m doing my very first blog and putting it out there for all the world to see. I haven’t a clue about what I’m doing and I’m scaring myself stupid, but what the heck. What’s the worst thing that can happen? I think the game plan is to quit agonizing over whether it’s perfect, and just dive in and do it. It feels like something akin to stepping out of an airplane at 10,000 feet. I can do it, but that first step is a gonna be a whipdoozie.