Vulnerability is one of our most potent superpowers. It seems ironic if you interpret vulnerability as being weak, but it is quite the opposite. It takes courage to dream, courage to love, courage to yearn for something dear and deep. The more we can place ourselves squarely inside of our vulnerability and practice finding our strength there, the more the magic will unfold. Andrea Scher
I've been avoiding putting up a post this morning. I'm here at a coffee shop, sipping Yerba Matte tea, buzzing from one website to the next with no real direction. Meanwhile, there is this little quiet voice tucked deep inside me somewhere, that keeps saying, you need to write through this.
The question is, what is this?
I guess this is one of those times I just need to begin and trust that what needs to come through will come through.
Trust. Begin. Let go of trying to control.
myself to sit with this tender, vulnerable feeling I have inside, trust that the strength and magic are hiding in here somewhere.
The truth is, it's a very vulnerable thing to come here and put my words/art on the page for people I know and don't know to see. Each time I hit "publish post," there is this instant oh shit feeling. This feeling of did I say too much, did I say that clearly enough, is that going to sound stupid, do I really want to expose myself in this way, will that offend anyone?
But I know that it takes courage to show up here again and again, to open to encouragement or criticism, to push through the discomfort, to yearn for something dear and deep. When I meet myself where I am, with love and acceptance, and share that truth with others, a beautiful stretching/expanding/growing thing happens.
It's like training for a run, it's often not very comfortable. (Especially on the up hill parts.) Sure, there are those moments when I'm feeling my rhythm (usually on the down hills) and the air smells fresh and alive and the birds are singing madly and I'm perfectly stretched out and pain-free and everything feels just right. But there are those other moments when all I want to do is stop. I've got a cramp in my side, my knees ache, my lungs feel like they can't take another breath, I'm barely gaining on the walkers in front of me. But I don't stop. I keep going. And when the time is up or I complete the loop, I feel like doing a happy, giddy dance. I feel proud. If it had all been comfortable & breezy, if I hadn't had to push up against myself, that feeling of great satisfaction wouldn't be nearly as great.
It's like sitting in front of a blank canvas, paintbrush in hand, heart beating fast...having no idea what I'm going to paint but dipping my brush deep into the magenta anyway. It's hearing the critical/worried/doubting voices that always show up with me, taking a deep, cleansing breath and choosing to continue anyway.
And so it goes with this blogging, creating world. If it was easy to put myself out there for whomever to see, I wouldn't feel the expansion that comes from pushing through & coming out on the other side. Sometimes the other side looks like someone commenting, telling me how much something I said, or painted, inspired them. Sometimes the expansion comes from feeling like I got the words just right. Sometimes it's the expansion that eventually comes when my words/art are met with a huge, all encompassing, eerie sort of silence.
Courage is stepping off our little edges and vulnerability is the feeling of tenderness and exhilaration we experience as a result. Both are necessary to get us unstuck and move us toward the light of our deepest dreams. Andrea Scher
And right now, it's the expansion and exhilaration that is coming from knowing that, ultimately, when it really comes down to it, it's me that needs to continue to show up for my love. It's me that needs to continue to un-stick me and move me toward the light of my deepest dreams. It's me that needs to appreciate me, encourage me, thank me, love me, value me, allow me to be fully all of who I am.
Here lies my strength. Here lies my courage. Here lies the magic. Here lies the greatest gift I can give myself.