Sunday, November 13, 2011

Possibilities, Come Get Me

I believe we all have a story written on our hearts. I believe we are all connected, all living things, by a thread. I believe that where our stories connect might be called a soul. Where our individual expression meets the rhythm of the world. I don’t think there is a name for my belief systems. But I do think that every religion makes sense of these very principles in its own way, often in the same way with different language. We all need to make sense of our world, each other and ourselves. And thank goodness for religions that help us do that.

Lately I have embarked on a soul-searching endeavour. My intention is to map out the bigger picture and where I fit into it. I suppose I’m writing my own religion. First, figure out your heart’s story. Second, mark the connections. Thirdly, make the rubber (individual story) hit the road (the world out there). I don’t expect to ever name it.

As I have been honouring my commitment to take better care of my body and exercise more, I have found the light of the world opening up again. I see things more clearly. My ideas are more a-plenty. I have more energy. I see how things can work, rather than obstacles all the time. I see potential. My own. That in others. It isn’t quiet at all. It is loud.

Like a song trying to escape from a box.

Until now, I have never worked at a job that I chose. The jobs I have been paid for have chosen me. Jobs have presented themselves and I have pursued them often with success and a certain degree of satisfaction and fulfillment. I have always felt capable and delivered on these jobs but never once did I feel like I was doing what I was meant to do.

It has only recently dawned on me that it is possible to create my own life’s work. An incredible, complete and total luxury I realize. But if I may, I think we all have the opportunity to create this for ourselves. The obstacles for each of us would vary (and the excuses would too), but for the most part, we could all get there if we believed we could, we were willing to move aside the debris in our way and didn’t stop until it happened. I know this kind of ‘American Dream’ thinking is not my usual banter. Usually I like to outline the real ways in which things are hard or impossible.

But today I want to talk about possibility.

The possibility of allowing your unique heart to tell its story.

The possibility that there is a list of things that you could do with your day that would not only make the world a better place, but make you feel like you were finally at home in your own skin.

The possibility that there are powers out there willing to guide you and connect you as you make your way to this home. That where you belong is already written on your heart and you will squirm if you are not heading there.

In the past few weeks since I have decided to no longer settle for a disgruntled existence, I have learned that opening to possibility is one small shift away.

I used to argue with people about how belief worked. Others would say that a change in attitude would make my life better. I would tell them that I couldn’t change my attitude because my bad attitude prevented me from doing it.

I took a chance on believing. Believing that I was capable of more than I ever dreamed of. Imagining that anything I truly wanted (because nobody truly wants heartache and pain and destruction) would be met with open arms, support and a path to get there.
I took a chance on my life, my family and me. Even though I couldn’t see two inches in front of my face.

A friend recently wrote me in the height of the fall season to remark on how beautiful everything was. The leaves were at their peak of colour, the sun ever shining, the days still warm, the air so fresh. He told me to pinch myself because it was all real. We were in the middle of the busiest time of harvest season, the farmer’s market, the animal processing. I noted to myself that I couldn’t see what he was talking about. And to my long list of things I thought were wrong with me I added: ‘cannot see that her life is already a dream’.

Perspective. Beliefs. They seem all that we have no matter what circles around us.

I have built a shape, a form, and an actual room where I can house the making of a new life (although I don’t believe that actual room is necessary – space is). I have written outlines, lists, cut out pictures, words, stories to try to find the one that best matches what I already know is there inside of me. I have carefully considered external advice – all the things that everyone else says I need – and rejected anything that didn’t sit right. They are just like those job postings. Great possibilities but not necessarily the right fit. I’ve been down that road already. There is a better road ahead.

It is as though I am playing charades with my heart and soul. I get euphoric, loud and clear if I get it right. I get fidgety and uncomfortable and go on a rant if it is wrong.

Two words. Keep Going.

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