Emergence: Pushing through a creative block.
"It's so quiet," my mother said.
We were sitting in the dark, with only the flickering of candles, after a bad storm last week had knocked the electricity out. This is no big deal in the south, really, at least for an hour or so. Thunderstorms, flickering lights and short blackouts are common here. Mama and I were talking about things that we usually don't discuss, like remembering all the places we have lived since we were born. Our unexpected trip down memory lane was fun for awhile, but two hours later, the romance was wearing off. I called the electric company, fully expecting to hear that we'd be back in lights shortly. Instead, I received a surprise.
"It's going to be somewhere between seven and ten hours," said the lady on the phone. "Three poles were snapped on the street just behind you, and really, the whole town is a mess!"
Gulp.This changed things.There would be no "back to normal" this particular night. My mother decided to work on a puzzle by candlelight. I chose to return to my abode next door and do...what? It was too early to go to bed. My laptop battery was not charged, and my current phone is a primitive flip-top, not an app-ladled I-phone or Android.
Hmmm. No TV, no internet, no distractions.
I wandered about and fiddled with flashlights and candles, looking for something that wouldn't drip or need to be propped up. I found a battery operated lantern that fit my need well.
Finally I settled at the desk in my office. I put a pen and a sheet of paper in front of me, and in the candlelight faced my creative block.
No, I knew better. Those are not the real reasons.
Hmmm. Well, maybe I have nothing to say, or nothing that would be of use or assistance or delight to others...
A sense of urgency pushed outward from my chest, as if to say, "NOT TRUE. You've got LOADS of things to share. You've got stuff collected into booklets ready to be edited and published. You've got stacks of healing activities to share, and questions from clients waiting to be answered in the blog, and ..."
O.k. O.k. So. What IS stopping me? After all, I've been a business writer, a published journalist and web writer. What is so different about this? Why is it so hard?
Fear tensed, then sucked in my chest. It warned me, "This is more than black and white information. It is coming from your heart. It is soul-to-soul stuff."
O.k, but so what? I'm good at that stuff. I do it everyday. I offer a safe place to help other people find their truth, and sometimes I share little snippets of my own towards that purpose. Sometimes my creative spirit inspires their creative spirit to relax and bloom a little more. I've been doing it for many years.
Cold laughter rattled in my chest then as the fear began to taunt me.
"This is different! said the fear. It is not one-to-one, within the cozy space of a session. It is public, where everyone can see. It is out in the open...
What if you get laughed at? What if people get mad or hurt because they don't understand what you're trying to say? Why should you stick your neck out right now, when everyone, everywhere is so paranoid and touchy because of the current state of the world?"
I shivered. I did not have an immediate response to that. I waited for whatever came next.
Art: johnhain /pixabay.com
That is when I saw a vision of a butterfly struggling, pushing herself out of her cocoon. The butterfly was sticky, covered in goo, unable to see exactly what was in the world beyond her cocoon. She was still messy, wobbly, but determined to push her way out.
I understood something then that gave me the courage to open my blog...even though it is scary outside and I still feel messy, uncertain and wobbly. I am not the only butterfly who is coming out.
There are armies of gentle, beautiful souls, who understand that the world vibration needs to rise, so that our world can heal. We must all push past our cocoons. The world needs our creativity, intuitive wisdom, brave and gentle illumination.
How can I inspire others to bloom their hearts, if I remain such a big chicken?
"It's time," the butterfly whispered to me. "Just do it. Start moving and things will happen. It doesn't have to be perfect. Just authentic and real."
So here it begins.