I really want to tell you why I'm later than usual in posting this prompt. I really want to tell you but, in truth, there's no especially good reason. Today, life just overtook me.
I really want to tell you how amazed I am by the [almost] 330 bloggers who have signed up for Blogtoberfest12. I am still working my way through the list, committed to visiting every participant at least once during the course of the month. I really want to tell you how humbled I am by everyone's efforts, especially those of you who are not doing it perfectly -- because life just overtakes us all from time to time -- but you are showing up anyway.
I really want to tell you that this saying of Mary Anne Radmacher's is ringing in my ears right now:
“Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow'.”
I really want to tell you that I have been thinking a lot about last week's Worthiness Wednesday post and suspecting that I got a little too caught up in my own rhetoric. I know this partly comes from growing up in a cultured, academic household and the love of beautiful words that has been so deeply instilled in me. But I am learning to see how this also places a distance, a filter between that finely crafted abstract concept and the less neat, unpretty and somewhat complex truth that is nestled deep in my heart.
I really want to tell you that this week I have been very hungry. And I really want to tell you that this week I have been eating a lot. Even though I know that I am not hungry for food. And even though I know that physical hunger does not mean I am being punished or rejected, even though somewhere along the line, my wires got crossed and this seems to be how my brain interprets growling signals from my stomach.
I really want to tell you that I saw Antony & the Johnsons perform Swanlights last week and it was one of the holiest things I have ever experienced. Halfway through the show, I found myself rummaging through my bag, in a desperate search for tissues, tears streaming down my cheeks.
I really want to tell you that a douchebag sitting three seats along from me was recording the show on his camera, despite being politely but firmly instructed to stop (twice!) by the usher. It pains me to say it, but it was all could do to stop myself from punching his swanlights out.
I really want to tell you that Antony's song Rapture may have changed me forever. I really want to tell you that I now understand how exquisite grief can be, and how the entire universe exists in a single drop of rain, and how the world is pregnant and mysterious and endlessly delightful.
I really want to tell you that I have always known that I only inhabit the "real world" of others on the margins. And this suits me perfectly, when I have such a lush and inviting inner world.
I really want to tell you that, sometimes, the dance on the periphery is joyful and spacious and maybe a little defiant. And that, ironically, these are the times when I interact most healthily and authentically with other people's worlds (no matter how counterintuitive that sounds).
I don't think I need to tell you that this dance can be lonely. And confusing. And it's times like these that I forget, and assume my feelings mean that I am lost and I need to find my way back to some kind of cardboard cutout of what my life is supposed to look like.
I really want to tell you that my space -- physical and psychical -- feels overwhelmingly cluttered.
I really want to tell you that Julie's post from yesterday really got me thinking about how I could really connect to my true self. I really want to tell you that an hour, an Osho zen tarot reading, a string of mala beads, a moment to photograph the roses in my front garden, a candle, all windows wide open and inviting the breeze, one exquisite song, some furious scribbling in my journal, a lot of sweet salty tears, and a trip to my favourite bookstore was all I really needed.
My friends, wherever you are -- and especially if you inhabit the margins -- please know that there are times when your footing will be a little wobbly. And there are times when your hungers may totally overtake you. These two things are likely connected.
I really want to tell you that it is possible to (re)connect to yourself in the most profound way, just by doing the simplest things.
And, if you're anything like me and forget who you are and what you love in that precise moment of wobbliness -- and it can take a while for the resulting fog to lift -- then what I really REALLY want to tell you is that you really can just show up. And try again tomorrow.
This post was inspired by a writing exercise shared by Laurie Wagner in the Re:connect e-course. Powerful stuff, and highly recommended (both the exercise and the course!).
Those of you playing along with Blogtoberfest might be new to Worthiness Wednesday. Don't be shy! Basically, it's a weekly prompt where I share my musings about the word "worthy" and my journey to understand what self-worth means to me. You are most welcome to respond on your own blogs, share your thoughts in the comments below, or just let the prompt marinate in your mind for a wee while.