being human,  commonplace book,  embodiment,  gratitude

On Wishing Life into Existence

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be somebody. Mediocrity was never okay. I dreamed of making it big, not necessarily as an actress, songwriter or singer, but someone recognizable. I wanted to be an anchor on a bigtime news show and as I entered college, I declared a communication major. I had huge hope and enthusiasm, but looking back, I see I was never really ‘for myself,’ and had no real possibility of manifesting those dreams into reality. Practicality was also bred deeply into my being, as well as analytical skills and discernment, leaving little room for creativity (the thing I now see we are ALL made for). Top that mix with ‘I don’t have a clue who I really am,’ and lots of unresolved childhood trauma that wouldn’t fully come to surface until much later in life. I didn’t yet know how to consciously create, and had to live through a lot more trauma, re-creations of past trauma, to finally get wise to the movements within me.

It would take years of living and messing up and learning and messing up again. It would take years to understand that I’d never be ready in early adulthood. I had too much to work through. It would take marrying someone all wrong for me, quitting college, leaving him, finding new men to ‘love me,’ amassing debt, spending years drunk, high or both, getting unexpectedly pregnant, leaving her father, marrying my soul mate, raising that beautiful child to be a smart, independent woman, watching my mom slowly die and ending right back where I started, to finally figure out that I’ve been nothing but in my own way all along.

Not a pretty picture, right? Here are some other, more productive things, I’ve done along the way: read every self help book you could imagine, graduated college, immersed myself in eastern mysticism, became a yoga teacher and yoga philosophy expert, quit a career I loathed, started a business, nurtured my husband into something beyond what he ever imagined for himself, mothered and taxied my daughter to help her achieve her dreams of playing D1 softball (she’s there now!), did neurofeedback, Jungian therapy, psychotherapy and healed my soul in ways I never thought possible.

And yet, and yet, and yet. I’ve believed in myself and not believed in myself along the way. I cognitively know my strengths but have sabotaged in equal measure. I’ve written professionally my entire career, yet still undervalue my abilities. I’ve manifested so many good things, but I still have doubt. I’ve educated myself in so many ways of the world, but I still question what I know to be true.

Soooo, at what point does the tide break and turn for good?

I believe I’m on the cusp. I believe I’m finally clear. Life isn’t perfect, or exactly where it’s supposed to be, but it is close, and the only thing stopping me from crossing the finish line is me.

Until now.

I was a yoga teacher and a freelance writer and I advanced my skills in digital media during that time, but I slowly discovered it wasn’t quite right. I did manifest what I wanted, but I wasn’t completely clear — or maybe I was clear but things changed over those years. I found embodiment practices throughout the last two years and it has been a game changer. It has helped me get more clear, in a grounded way, about where I’m headed next.

What I realize now that I didn’t fully realize before, is that we have to be absolutely clear in our wishes prior to manifesting the life of our dreams.

I don’t know that I’m absolutely clear about the rest of my life, but I am clear on the immediate future, and all of my time, energy and attention is working toward that immediate future but living it now, as if it’s actually happening.

I am using the resources available to me to create this beautiful life of mine, and I am removing the doubt that has always been present, and the conditioning that has kept me stuck.

Life, here I am. You can’t do with me as you wish because I know my wishes are yours. I am powerful. I create. I trust. It is all happening now.

 

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