?

What if 

I let go of the thought

that perfect is out there,

somewhere else.

?

What if 

I have everything I need,

but never stopped

to check.

?

What if

I bathed in the warmth

of what’s here,

right now.

Here, my inner richness sits,

while I search the whole world

for the treasure I’ve painstakingly carried

every, single, step.

The gold inside

waits patiently to be discovered

the moment you open the door.

An ocean

waves, and waves, and waves,

knowing someday, you’ll come home.

Your hands reach out

to hold you.

Your heart bursts forth

to feel you.

Your eyes long to close

so you can see.

Okay, so that’s the poem I wrote for this week. But here’s the very first thing I wrote:

“Oh god, what am I thinking, I need to get into flow, how will I do that, just keep writing. Listen to something that will calm me. I feel really good about being here. I have some anxiety.”

Sometimes, there’s more to clear out before inspiration strikes. But today, this was enough. Every time I sit down to write, I’m afraid that nothing “good” will surface. But, 9 times out of 10, patience yields something I’m proud to share. If I can stick with it through my mind doubting and struggling to adjust its rhythm, I can find the flow. It helps me to think of it this way, to remind myself that my job is not to try to write. My job is to stay open long enough for my thoughts to get out of the way so something more interesting can come through. Of course, I put my brain to work finding the right words, and shaping what comes out. But if I let it get too involved, it strangles the magic. Here’s to the mindfuck of trying to not try, just the right amount.