I never thought of myself as a writer, in fact, I still don’t, but there’s something inside of me that gets absolute pleasure from mixing words together whether on paper, or on a screen.
I get tired of writing, no…it’s more like one of the voices inside of my head says that I’m not good enough to be a writer; so, I stop.
I literally can’t keep writing—I figuratively freeze.
Thankfully the burning sensation eventually thaws me out, it ignites from within me a fire that can only be cooled down through writing. Sigh…does the battle within the self ever stop?
When did I start battling with myself?
I didn’t battle with myself as a child, I can honestly say that I cared for myself a lot more back then—I was my biggest best friend, I looked out for myself and I did things that I liked. I was not fake, and that is not to say that I am any sort of fake now—I try to be as natural as I can be (to fulfill the being that God made me) but it is difficult to be so real sometimes. It is no longer as easy to be just me as it was when I was a kid.
There are grown-up expectations now.
But what does it mean to be a grown up? It seems that everywhere I look being a grown-up means learning to complain more…being a grown up means doing the same thing over, and over, and over, and over…being a grown-up means letting go of play-time and discovery…being a grown-up means getting mad over arbitrary little shits like traffic and bad odor or simply whatever the #<@% other people do.
We cannot control other peoples behavior, we can only control our reaction.
What truly deserves our attention and energy? How do I give my attention and energy to more things that fuel me? How can I nurture the things that will help me to bloom and blossom? What should I be practicing everyday?
Like a baby eventually learns to walk, after several attempts, after tons of trial and error, adults can learn to enjoy more, diversify/expand/have fun (a hundred years is a long time, even seventy-eight), do less sitting/more moving, discover new and wonderful possibilities, let go of arbitrary shit. Labels…
I am not anything that I am labeled.
I just do, everyday, I do what I can to be helpful, sometimes I forget to be harmless…I forget about nature, I forget about animals and plants and people, I even forget about myself—I am only human.
What does it mean to be an adult human on Planet Earth in the 21st century?
Our world, somewhere in the Milky Way, is more united than ever; we have more possibilities than at any other time. Prior to this year, things have only remained the same because we thought we had to fall into these prefabricated adult paradigms. Just because we become adult shaped doesn’t mean we have finished maturing. When fruit is picked out of its prime it doesn’t taste good. How do we nurture the patience we need to have with ourselves in order to properly tend to our inner garden?
How do I enjoy watching my inner flowers grow and grow and grow patiently until it’s their right time to bloom…then just be thankful.
Know anyone that will find this valuable? Remember to LIKE and SHARE (help water the things that you want to see grow).
a few good posts from 7daysPresent.com
deydreaming 