This morning as I was preparing to write my first real blog post, I choked. I ran right into that big old block of writer’s angst headfirst, bounced off and sat stunned on the ground wondering – Who? What? Where?
In my early years of newsletter writing, I knew I had something to say. Each week as I finished an issue I would type the words “and next week’s topic will be…” then I’d wait, words would roll forth from my fingertips, I’d look at them and think “oh that’s interesting, but I don’t know anything about…” unfailingly before the next Friday, Earth School would drop exactly the homework I needed into my lap and I would find myself knowing just what to say.
So you can see how saying this morning’s void was disconcerting is an understatement! I mean, I didn’t jump into this whole blog thing lightly; I debated it with my writing buddies and my Self. I pondered whether blogging wasn’t a violation of my stand for quality one-on-one communication and against social networking. I even went so far as to buy the book Blogging For Dummies. (Which frightened as much as it enlightened.)
In the end I trusted that I had something to say that someone needed to hear and I launched this page. So what’s going on? Last week I had a zillion ideas and now nada, zip. Every thought I tested came back a chore instead of a joy. It was like learning to dance all over again!
There I admit it, I learned to dance as a “should.” I should be able to dance. My brother’s a dancer so I should learn to dance from him. Everyone should dance…and worst of all -If I’m going to dance, I should do it perfectly.
So dancing became a chore, a challenge, something to be conquered and perfected. I spent so much time worrying about getting it right, I forgot why I wanted to dance in the first place, because it looked like fun; it wasn’t fun at all.
Until last year, when I met someone who embodied everything I originally loved about dancing. He was skilled, graceful, precise, and best of all – he danced like no one was watching. With every cell and atom of my being I wanted to dance with him.
Then at my party to celebrate surviving cancer, I finally got the chance. In the middle of a conversation he said, “Put some music on we’re going to swing dance.” Terrified I looked into his eyes and as if he said the words out loud I heard “I know you’re scared but if you’re willing to face it, I’m with you.” I put on a song, walked across the room and as his hand went around my waist I felt the one thing that had been missing from most of my previous attempts, I felt trust.
Was the dance perfect? Far from it, not only did we start and stop as I lost the beat every time my brain intruded, at once point I missed a cue, let go when I should’ve held on and nearly broke an entire china cabinet full of crystal by careening into it. But it was in that moment, when normally I would have fled in mortification, that I chose to stay and continue. I chose to trust, trust my partner yes, but more importantly to trust my Self that I could do this thing called dancing and have fun at it. (In fact the picture at the top of my last post is of that dance, I look like I’m having fun don’t I? I was.)
This morning just as I bounced off my writer’s block, the phone rang. The caller was a friend who is also a writer, going through some tough times and grappling with the question of trust. As we talked I realized I did have something to say, that writing, like dancing, or anything else in Earth School boils down to trust.
Yes, desire plays a role; it’s the catalyst that tells Self and the universe what you want to create. Clarity is a biggie and more on that later. Surrender and acceptance are the keys to keeping each dance going, surrendering to the music, accepting the song that is being played. But in the end what moves ideas into form is trust, trust that you can follow or lead, trust that you’ll know the steps or improvise, and trust that if you hit a wall, (or a china cabinet) a way around or through will be provided.
Even when it feels as if our faith is gone, it is trust that keeps us going. We trust that our legs will support us when we get out of bed, we have faith that that gravity will keep us from flying into the heavens and we know in our hearts that the sun is shining behind those clouds.
I may not know what the next moment will bring, but if I listen and trust right now, I will be led to the next step and the next. Where I get in trouble is when I leap ahead past the present moment or behind into what’s happened before. If I can only trust the now, I have everything I need and quite possibly something I very much want.
onward and upward,
© C A Crossman and Dancing Through Life with Spirit,2012.
This post is dedicated to my friend Charles who gave me just what I needed when I needed it to get this baby out of my head and onto the page!
Dancing Through Life with Spirit 