In my last post I shared with you how I started writing every day and what I head learned from that. But I didn’t tell you about what I learned about the other 1/2 of my Guide’s message.
If you remember, when I asked my Guide for help in understanding what was wrong with me, the response was: “Stop fucking around and show up.” Not only that, but for the next 24 hours, it wasn’t the words, ‘show up’ that I saw or heard four more times, it was, ‘stop fucking around.’
I thought that showing up was my problem. I thought that there was something wrong with me. What writing every day has taught me is that the messages found in the not showing up are actually one of my greatest teachers. Not showing up is actually not a problem at all.
I don’t know who or what my Guide is. I don’t know if it’s just my higher self, or if it’s an angel or something else entirely or what, but I do know that whoever it is, their perspective is one of divinity. From their perch, all of this human stuff must be puzzling: if we are in any way divine, why do we let ourselves get caught up in our fears and our foibles? Why can’t we just show up and do what is best for us? To them it must look like we are just (to use their words), fucking around.
It shows that we must be more, because we ask ourselves those same questions: What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just…” We can see the possibilities, but we get stuck in the ordinary muck.
One morning as I wrote ‘what’s wrong with me’ (for the thousandth time) the words, ‘where you stopped is a message’ came into my head. That made me stop writing.
Where you stopped is a message.
This felt important, so I started paying attention. When I really had to force myself to show up, I would stop and look at what was going on. Often it would be in a week where I was writing similar stuff over and over again. So I would ask myself: what am I avoiding? And if I persevered, I’d often find a fear hiding under all of that repetition. Then, instead of allowing that fear to stop me, I would take it to my writing.
As I practiced looking the stop in my writing, I also began to look more widely. I would see a book that I had started reading and then never went back to, wonder where I stopped, and open it again, only to see that it was talking about something that challenged me. Instead of putting the bookmark back in, I took that challenge to my writing.
Alongside writing this year, I have been on a journey with Magical Eating, so I tried taking this idea with me into my relationship with food. Every time I realized that I had stopped focusing on that journey, I would check in and see where I had stopped. Almost every time I could trace that stop to a fear. Once I saw that fear for what it was I would take that to my daily writing.
Every time I stopped to ponder the stop, there was a message for me. And every time it was a message about something I was afraid of. Every single time it was an opportunity for healing.
What if every time we stop doing something that we think we want to do, there is a reason for the stop? What if there’s nothing actually wrong with us at all and it’s actually an opportunity to learn more about ourselves and to heal one of our fears? What if the places we stop out of fear are just opportunities to stop fucking around – to clear up some of the human stuff and re-engage with our divinity? What if they are just an opportunity to clean up the stuff we don’t actually need anymore?
I’ve discovered that showing up no matter what is kind of like Marie Kondo-ing your life. You get to look at things, hold them up to the light and say, ‘do I really need or want this anymore?’ instead of just stuffing them back into your junk drawer. (Or sometimes I still just put things back in that drawer for awhile. We aren’t always ready to heal everything, and I really think that’s okay. Seeing it as a fear is still a big step.)
(Here they are: 365 days of writing in 7 ultra-glamorous notebooks.)
So here I am, still showing up. Still writing. Still wondering. Still healing. Still struggling with it. Still hoping that I don’t screw up. Still hoping that I will keep showing up. Still wishing that I had it in me for this to be easy. Still dragging myself out of bed at 11:30 because I forgot to write before then. Still enjoying how wonderful it feels sometimes, and worrying about how hard it is others.
I showed up today as clearly as I could. I listened. I wrote. I wondered.
I showed up today. Today is all that matters.
(And yes, I am celebrating a whole year today too! All of the todays added up to a whole year. Yay, me! I am proud of me, and excited to show up again tomorrow.)
What about you? How did you show up for yourself today? Today is all that matters.
With so much love,
