Several years ago, a dear friend told me I had a book inside me. I have been pondering this thought for a long time.
Recently, several other friends have expressed similar observations, so once again, I am pondering.
I mean, what would I have to write about that others might find interesting?
My conclusion . . . it doesn't matter if others find it interesting, or if anyone even reads this. What's important to me is that I just start writing. If nothing else, it will be cathartic.
So here goes . . .
If I were to tell you the story of my life it would be full of contradictions . . . high and low, good and bad, happy and sad . . . and everything in between. The only constant would be inconsistency.
I once heard someone say "I was born at a very early age." I adopted this saying as though it were my own. I was so very clever as I found ways to fit it into my conversations. However, now I am not too sure about it since I feel I have been born many times over . . . in this one lifetime! So how do I start to tell you about me? The most reasonable place would be to begin with things as they are right now.
As I sit and ponder the events of my life, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for everything I have experienced. Each moment has been amazing . . . in retrospect. But, while I was in the midst of living it, when I was immersed in the day-to-day happenings, life sometimes felt unbearable.
I often wanted to run away and not face any of it. I lived in fear of so much that appeared before me. At times I felt anxious, and went around frantically trying to keep safe by allowing myself to become distracted by "busy-ness." But along with the incredible joy in my life, the feelings of never having enough, being enough, or doing enough were always there . . . a constant, nagging presence.
Things are different now.
The thoughts that used to keep me in a state of perpetual motion are still very active in my mind. However, now I find that I no longer run away, or attempt to busily fill time and space, so they will subside. In the face of the continuing barrage, I notice that I am experiencing a sense of calm. I am also aware, and give more consideration to the other parts of me . . . the many other parts . . . that have been regularly sent to the back of the line to await their turn to appear center stage in the theatrical production that has been my life.
I don't know when it changed . . . or how. I only know it did. I could sit here all day ruminating over this. My best guess is that the change in my approach to my own thinking is due to my survival. In spite of the many challenges . . . I am still here. Those things I thought might kill me, fulfilled the words of the well-known saying by making me stronger.
The result of all of this seems to be that I am more allowing of my own very human self. And, in doing this I find that I am also more allowing of the faults and foibles of those of you I encounter along the way. I feel more connected to everyone around me, and I am discovering that no matter what I have done to try and hide my true nature from the world, it is there . . . as it has always been . . . and I suspect, always will be. It is so simple . . . it is love.