One sunny day last week my BFF called and we chatted. Nothing unusual. About five minutes in she shared that she felt accomplished that she had deleted 12,000 emails. Wow. Impressive.
Then she said “Don’t be mad.”
That is the line we use with each other when we are about to confess having partaken in a perceived bad habit or when we have done something that we are not quite sure if the other will approve. (It sound really co-dependent, I know, but I swear it is not!)
I was getting ready to laugh with her or torment her when she said something that shocked me.
“I re-read some of your old newsletters/blog posts. You are a good writer. You should re-read them, you might get inspired.”
I was shocked. Then I was confused that I was shocked.
Shocked that my BFF had given me a compliment? No.
Shocked that she made time to re-read the posts. No-though a little curious.
The shock was actually a mask for vulnerability.
When we say “Don’t be mad” with each other, it is actually a signal that we are about to be vulnerable and we are protecting ourselves.
She knows how vulnerable and yet exhilarating it is for me to write. She was touching a tender spot.
And as soon as she called out that she re-read articles, I realized that I had stopped writing on any kind of regular basis. I had stopped being vulnerable and in doing so had also kept myself from feeling the ecstasy.
Writing is panful and therapeutic at the same time. Writing started in high school with lots of angst filled poems and journal entries.
Then it became more. Pen on paper. Now, fingertips to keyboard keys.
It is painful yes, to slow down and listen. To be patient and wait. Wait for the words to come. Crafting them until it just feels right. Feels just right. Stills scary, but feels right.
Then what to do with what has been created? In my case what to do with the words, or program that has been created through me. In other cases it may be what to do with the photo that has been taken, the images that have been collected, the color, the lines that have been assembled, the spreadsheet that has tooled, the wood that has been cut, the fabric sewn… what to do with the creation that is before you.
Birth it.
Birthing is hard. It is painful and the ultimate union of spirit and body. It is releasing a piece of you into the world. And that is scary. We leave ourselves open to be seen, really seen. And sometimes we don’t like looking in the mirror, let lone standing in from of a window.
But we are here to be seen and see others, energetically, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually.
That is something that I know like a I know like I know.
And so I write…and I coach….and I use words to express and create and assist in dismantling and assembling worlds.
What do you do?
I would love to know.
To A Life All In-
Jennifer
