When I started this blog, I was a writer who didn't write who felt like she should. I vowed that I was turning over a new virtual page because I had something to say dammit. But then I didn't say anything. For two years.
I now understand that that wasn't the whole story. Just because you feel like should do something doesn't mean you are ready to do it. I also have a slow process. Some people go immediately from recognition/idea to huge-mother-fucking life change; I am not one of those people. I spend lots of time ostensibly doing "nothing" until one day "nothing" becomes a huge epiphany. And even then I move like molasses through the proper steps.
As much as this pound of caution has served me well throughout my life (super cocoon of safety!), it also keeps me confined (super cocoon of safety?). I judge myself for not being as quick to act as others. I dwell. I wait for the signs.
A wise woman once taught me the power of both, and. I want to write, and I'm not ready. I love this person, and I know that they can't support me in the way I need. I know I have a higher purpose in this life, and I'm still figuring out what it is. All of these things are Capital T true. I can feel them all at once. And when they calibrate to the appropriate vibration, the atmosphere is ripe for action.
So what if the truth is: there is no Captial T truth. There is my process. And that is true for me no matter what it looks like. Similarly, if it changes from nanosecond to nanosecond, it's still fucking true to me. And not in the Donald Trump I-believe-in-x-today-and-y-tomorrow way (and whatever it is it tremendous and Mexico's gonna pay for it). In the this-is-my-life-and-I-get-to-choose-how-I-feel way. My truth can be subtle and complicated and malleable. Because it's mine.
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