I write more often when I'm down, pensive, frustrated. It's my way of cleansing myself of my negativity. Some new thought leaders suggest never penning what ails you, keeping quiet about the things in life that you wish were different and releasing through meditation or creative visualization.
Most of the time I ascribe to such advice. Today, though, I'm hitting a bump. This is what yelling does to me. It's been a trying week and finally, this morning, I lost it big time. It had absolutely nothing to do with the kid that I yelled at. It had everything to do with my stress around our finances, my too-slow-business growth and probably hormones.
So, I write. Like the pensieve that Dumbledore used to store his thoughts, I use writing to detoxify my mind. I'm wondering today what the point is the point of it all? Void of my characteristic cheerfulness, I feel hopeless. All those uplifting quotes on Facebook serve to diminish instead of inspire me.
I've learned that when one is on their path, on their purpose, there is a flow to life. My life is not flowing. My path is muddy, rocky, disrupted, disjointed. So, am I on the right path? When do I get to actually use some of my learnings instead of continually facing the challenges that teach?
I cry to the Universe for hope. Confirmation. Otherwise, I may as well chuck my aspirations in the bin and focus my energies simply on being the best mother and homemaker I can be. That will require dusting and once and for all matching all of the socks. I want more.
I want to BE hope, to BE light, to BE inspiration.
(Aha moment) This is tension. I have forgotten the very credo of my beloved Passion Test. Intention, Attention, No Tension. I am in a state of tension.
Yet, through this written meditation I have made a connection. This melancholy is an aspect of my authenticity. Passion #4: When my life is ideal, I am living authentically from my heart and soul.
Being authentic, for me, is not all cheer and forward movement. It is also embracing my sadness, pausing and reflecting. That is what the Universe ("God" to many) has been showing me this week. I am grateful for yet another lesson.
This is why I write.