I've been giving myself some space. Room to move, to breathe, to decompress.
I've been giving my mind freedom. Freedom from sorting, sifting, planning, creating...controlling.
I've been letting go, exhaling, softening...giving up. Yes, giving up.
What do I know about anything? Nothing.
Out of that space has come forward a torrent of emotion, odd feelings, random thoughts and an overwhelming uncomfortable tiredness. I had no idea that I would feel this way.
Out of that space my self belief has been challenged, my purpose shrouded in doubt and many questions have arisen.
There are so many things I can do, so many things I can be.
I have been bombarded with an outpouring of ideas. I can barely keep up with them. Ideas about my writing, ideas about other creative pursuits and ideas about my purpose. Usually this would see me planning, preparing and devising ways of executing these ideas, but I have just let them be....in the space ...with me. Which ones are real? Which ones are me? Which way do I go?
I feel upside down, inside out, searching for an anchor, for gravity.
I catch glimpses of my inner being. I feel it briefly..the truth of it. It feels good. Then I spin past into another dimension. One of what ifs and maybes. One of fear.
I hear my mother..."feel the fear and do it anyway"...but I just float in and out of space, waiting to land. Waiting to know, to really know. I wait for the pull of the universe...show me which way to go.
I surrender.
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