Very often, I am asked, how do I “become” what is surging within me to “be”? I am fascinated by this question, because, in every way, it is the quest of purpose, of meaning, of manifesting the truth of who we are. So, if this is the core of us, why does it seem so confounding to simply “be” what we are meant to be on this Earth?
Perhaps, we could point a finger at any number of reasons: we are taught to disavow our intuition; taught to distrust our talents for the “pragmatic”; taught to distrust our creativity, and submerge it as a mere hobby.
Then, guided by Fear and Doubt, if ever we attempt to throw off the shroud of practicality for a grander vision of ourselves, in some ways, we are doomed to failure. Not because we are attempting to be who we are, but because Fear is a terrible companion and will only ever manifest itself. Meaning: the thoughts we hold in our head are exactly what we will attract to ourselves.
You must shrug off your Fear and have Courage. That voice within which speaks softly at first, then louder still, is your ultimate Guide. And you must listen. You must trust that perhaps in all of your prayers and your seeking for purpose, that you have your answer within you already.
How do you then write that book? Paint that painting? Help others as you hope to?
Word. By. Word. Brush Stroke. By. Brush Stroke. Piece. By. Piece.
Begin. With one step. Without judgement upon your emerging self. Without desire to be perfect from your first baby step. Stumble a bit. Enjoy the dizzy fumble. You will find your way. You will find your voice. You will transcend this amateur beginning and your work will begin taking a shape which is your ultimate expression.
Above all, always approach your emerging purpose with mirth. Laugh. Carry it with blissful joy. Don’t be too serious as you create this new Self. Be gentle as you would with a Child. Kindly guiding yourself with humor and the inner knowing that one day you will crawl, then walk, then run, then Soar.
This poem, by Mary Oliver is a lovely reminder which I read whenever I feel myself doubt my Life’s work.
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.– (Mary Oliver, The Journey)
I love you. I believe in you. (now – you believe in you too)
T
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