Quicksand

Where am I? What's my name? And how do you pronounce it? What year is it? What season? Why is it warm in February? What am I doing? What am I supposed to be doing? I've barely blogged this past year. I created this in part to help me stay motivated, track my journey toward more authenticity, toward more truth, toward more expression, more humility, more connection to myself and others. To share myself. In all my imperfections. Unabashedly. Courageously. And I find myself sitting here in a beautiful place, barely able to enjoy the warmth in the middle of what would normally be winter for me. Ice storms back 'home'. Ice storms in my heart. What's holding me back? I ask myself again and again. Where's the ground? Why is it that I barely pick up my guitar? What am I afraid of? There's an open mic tomorrow night. Will I make it? Or will I hide some more. Seeking the security of not trying over the risk of failure. 'I'm not ready.' I say. And then I don't get ready. Transition gives rise to old demons. Old habits of body and mind.

In school, I'd been too busy to blog. Too busy to connect to self. Too busy to work on my own songs. Now I have time stretching before me and I don't blog. I barely write. New soil. New possibilities. New realities. A man who loves and support me. I try to support myself. So many tools in my toolbox. Many are dull. Are all the tools equally effective? I carefully choose the appropriate knife in the kitchen depending on if I am slicing bread, chopping onions, slicing a lemon in half. Which tool to scrape off the layers of fear and doubt? To cut through the stories keeping me small, constricted. To pull me out of the quicksand of indecision, of overwhelm. I make little motions toward this branch or that, but can't seem to get a good enough grasp to pull myself completely out.

I'm on Day 6 of the Master Cleanse. Clearing my body. Maybe it will help clear my mind.

What to do? What to do? Meditate. Check. Email Mom. Check. What next? Read? Run? The Work of Byron Katie? Morning Pages of the Artists' Way? The new/old house still has corners longing to be free of dust. The garden begs for attention. The clean dishes await return to their place in the world. What's my place in the world? So many interests, ideas of how I can be helpful. I've dabbled in so many things. Will I keep dabbling? I long to wholeheartedly throw myself one hundred and ten percent into....what? Priesthood? Sustainability? Music? NVC Trainer certificaiton? The Work facilitation training? Conservation work? I long to fully express my love and concern for what in this life I hold dear. To have my life express my values. To have all the pieces in my life come together into a beautiful whole.

Whole. Happy and whole. That's what I wished for everyone this morning in my metta prayer. May I be happy and whole. May my family be happy and whole. May my partner be happy and whole. May my friends be happy and whole. May my teachers be happy and whole. May my former students be happy and whole. May my former coworkers be happy and whole. May my neighbors be happy and whole. May my acquaintances be happy and whole. May my strangers be happy and whole. May world social, military, political, and spiritual leaders be happy and whole. May all the soldiers on all sides be happy and whole. May all those who I've had ill-will towards and those that have had ill-will towards me: may we drop all the bullshit and just love each other. Amen.

And if it is in the highest interest of all beings, may my guitar find its way into my hands long enough for me to settle. To settle into this new place. To settle into myself.