“Expect your purpose to unfold in a series of shining moments.
Also, expect it to scare you witless.”
~ Martha Beck
Infamous Mercury retrograde goes direct in a week. The post affect another 4 days after that. I’ve long made the shift from looking at this period with trepidation. As a period where the works of daily life get wonked. To me, it’s a period of review, revisit, reconsider, make over. Before I go on, let me offer a new thought for those who stop here, thinking it a bunch of hooey.
Consider that the swing of the planets and inexplicable energies sit right next to particle physics, quarks, and Higgs boson (the God particle). That it’s all additional information. That it can be quite exciting when faith includes an expanded concept of the Universe and our place in it, and we’re linked to this universe in a way we can’t see. And our language and thoughts have power to change not only what’s in our heads, but the world around us. Like the Bible says it does. Consider the possibility that miracles exist. That coincidence and serendipity are commonplace, and all that makes them invisible is not noticing, or dismissing them as nothing wondrous when you do.
I once read God speaks to us in song lyrics, words on billboards, overheard conversations or something said by a friend, phrases that jump out in a book or magazine. I say thru Facebook, too. Read enough, it’s easy to believe. So many comments ‘just what I needed to hear today.’ I often share the messages and coincidence I see in this blog (like last week, that full day finding Home, and a few weeks before when messages collided like stars)
Here’s my confession. I had a serious moment of self-doubt the other day. I could see it happening and knew it was what I call my little-girl self. The one raised on crazy-making messages of be this, no, that. Whose perfectionism was praised and displayed as a shining banner to family friends. Who didn’t smile when she woke and felt the constant reminder of this flaw. Who was told she was too loud, always heard above the other kids. Who was repeatedly abandoned by the people she knew loved her, and beaten by the man who said he loved her. Who was always a tad behind her best friend Margie Applegate in schoolwork, choir, PE, and looks. Who never had a home for more than 4 consecutive years until she was 30. That girl. The one who bought it. I saw her and thought, nope, I don’t buy it anymore. But she lingered.
When snow and frigid temps arrived, I decided to pull back, just BE. I got the makin’s for hearty soup, signed on to Hulu, watched Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” the entire afternoon. Indoors, alone, Being. Little Doing. I did it again the next day (tho I can’t remember how the day flew). And I rose Monday knowing I choose, I can, I am.
Today the messenger angels swooped in. The personal ones saying ‘Right On’ to my Yes. First, the quote above reminding me the shining moments are real and true. That I feel such purpose, I think ‘next’ when something doesn’t fly right. I’m reminded that scared witless is what just happened, and it will happen again, and again. ‘Cause when you leave what you know so well behind for a better thing you’re positive of but haven’t lived fully, yet, scared happens. It’s only my head and experience keeping me back.
Following the quote was this from poet Maya Stein. She just lost her father, and is sharing parts of his truly remarkable, poetic, and loving correspondence to her on Facebook.
“. . .I admire your courage and curiosity and willingness to take risks. Not just risks about finding the right audience for your work, but risks about love, about life. What you are setting out to do is not just inventive and courageous, but it is also filled with risk: will these people who have invited me be interesting? will my workshops be fulfilling? will I come back home empty-handed and empty-pocketed? will I be bored out of my skull repeating something so many times? Will I be good at what I think I should be good at?
In any adventure– and this is surely an adventure you have created for yourself– there are bound to be surprises; and surprises come in many flavors, as you know. I wish for you the BEST surprises, and that whatever inevitable disappointments may occasionally arise, they will pale in the face of the inevitable successes. What you have to share is worth sharing, and you are incredibly good at sharing, and it is uniquely yours to share. The ultimate success is perhaps just that, the taking of your leap. . .”
Those words were like God speaking directly to me. Every bit.
The star on the cake came in a text from my sister. My sparkly, curious 9 yr. old Olympics-bound gymnast great-niece wrote a poem, wants me to see it. The end, “This bright shining star can lead the way. Nothing can stop it. . .” Wise little girl. She understands.
What I really want you to know is these messages are for you, too. So, go on back. Read them, again. It’s a magical world.
Another small journey. Getting to Wise.
A Writer’s Life.
Tell me. . .what’s grabbed your heart lately? What’s let you know you’re alright?
Photo: Pamela Nhlengethwa, open copyright
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