Today, I’m studying seed catalogs and thinking about this challenge I’ve given myself – to write and publish something every day. It’s important – I’ve lain fallow too long.
At this new beginning, I’m energized – and, at the same time, deeply contemplative. I feel compelled to push things out the door – all the good work I’ve already completed and to begin something new.
But I know myself – and I know my own cycles. There will come a day, in a week, maybe two – when I will find myself coming to this page and asking: Do I really want to do this every day?
Today, I am setting the intention that when that question arises, I will meet it with a fierce YES!
There will be much new growth this year – and I will share all of that with you. But I have already done so much work, good work that, because of my fear of being seen ( and once seen, misunderstood) had been hidden away.
I feel about this work the way a mother feels about the child who is not as outgoing but whose gifts she treasures and must protect.
I love it. I am proud of it. But I worry for it. Will it live up to the potential that I, its creator, can see? Will it illuminate something new? Will it support and uplift others? Can it stand in the light of day and live?
As I sort through this mountain of paper – these notebooks filled with scribbled pages, I am asking: What needs to live? What can inform and improve the work I am doing now? Of what can I let go?
These projects reflect my soul seeds, the themes that call and call to me. Each represents a thread in the tapestry of all that I am. Just as each of the things you do – every hobby, sport, project and activity – is a strand in the weaving of that is you.
Today, look back over your own unfinished symphonies, your own half-written books, almost completed screenplays… What themes emerge? What threads are trying to express themselves here?
What abandoned activities are worth reviewing? What do you want to finish? What needs to be released?
In my january 3rd post, I will talk about the soul seed. For now, I am thumbing through seed catalogs and dreaming about the beloved projects – the almost finished books, the pretty much outlined workshops, the almost there Emagazine – each a seed sleeping beneath snow.