being human,  embodiment,  writing


Sometimes words come to me. No, words always come to me. It’s the way my brain works. Words pop in, followed by other words; I had an entire blog post written in my head, in bed, this morning. Only it wasn’t entirely written – thoughts swirl and I know where I’m headed but I’m not always sure of the details or how the words will take me there, until I sit down to write.

Precipice was my word this morning, the state I feel I’m in. Precipice literally means ‘a very steep rock face or cliff, especially a tall one.’ And metaphorically I am at a precipice in life. I have choices to make.

Do I climb the mountain face? Do I jump? Do I free fall? Do I let the steepness scare me? Or do I see it as an opportunity to change everything, rearrange life by stepping into the unknown?

One chapter is ending as a new one begins, but the thing is, I have no clear view of the direction I’m headed. I have ideas. I have hopes. I have aspirations. But I don’t have a clear path and, quite frankly, it scares the shit out of me.

I have always been someone with my shit together, yet I have viewed life more linear-ly than it actually is: point a to point b. Interestingly, I just typed point a to point BE just a minute ago, which I know is the ultimate answer.

Not knowing (BE instead of b) allows the possibility for something greater; it allows far more than my rational brain can conceive. My rational brain’s tendency is to plan, categorize and line up all the steps. But life isn’t that way and I limit myself when I try to make it so. I never could have planned the life I’m living now with my rational brain. No, life/consciousness, is living itself out through me with very little planning involved.

Sometimes I’m frustrated when I write because I get to this place in my story/post and my rational brain takes over again. It tells me I need to summarize, draw a conclusion, put a pretty pink bow on top of the story. I always think I need to KNOW. It’s a lot of exhausted mental power. It’s a lot of work.

I’ll just get it out of the way and admit that I don’t know, and that I write so my thoughts can make a little more sense. I write so I can ruminate on the matter further. I write to help me make better decisions. I write to see the whole picture instead of the fragmented parts. Hell, I think sometimes I write just to prove I exist.

Writing, for me, is meditation. It is contemplation. It is practice. I breathe. I think. I feel into my body. I let the words flow from my finger tips. And I almost always come back to this one thing: I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers, but it will be okay. It is always okay. Deep down, without the filter of my brain, I know that I trust life. I trust that it all is working out for the greater good.

At the end of the day, I’m just a simple human embodying life the best way I know how, asking questions, contemplating, making decisions (or not) and trying to not be afraid of the precipice that lies ahead.

One Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Intentionally create your days; start with a mindful morning.
Get the free ebook!

Thank you for subscribing. Your ebook is on it's way to your inbox.

There was an error while trying to send your request. Please try again.

s o u l f a b r i c will use the information you provide on this form to be in touch with you and to provide updates and marketing.