I wear many hats. Always have. You probably do to ... for we are complicated and complex creatures. It feels like I don't have space for all the ways of me. The world has a series of chutes and tunnels, gates and locks, fences and corrals ... ways of making us narrow and less and thin.
When I hear narrow your focus ... do one thing ... find your niche ... I hear, be less. And I don't know how to be less ... anymore. I used to know how to be less. I used to know how to speak quieter, how to shrink, how to fade into the background. It was required and expected that I would simply nod my head and go along because that is what the good book said. Women were to be silent.
I am quite sensitive to being shushed or to feeling like my work is less important ... even though often I still feel this is true. My work doesn't pay the bills and if anything it an expense in the budget that rarely is justified monetarily. And here I am a day past yesterday and am I really writing about the measure of success again? It's a theme that circulates through my mind a lot. I'm not grounded ... yet. I haven't made my way to the center of me that is so true that nothing else matters. I haven't immersed myself in devotion.
What would I be devoted to? Here we are again ... just one thing? How could I choose?
Am I an artist? Am I a writer? Am I a gatherer ... mentor ... teacher? All the questions that I keep repeating to myself.
My husband and I had a challenging conversation this weekend. I saw him struggling with the why of something. struggle. struggle. struggle. Finally, I said to him, "What if you didn't have to know why? What if you could make a different choice and begin there?"
I think that's the answer for me. What if I don't have to know which it is ... or if its one thing or all things [ who am I kidding? We all know it's going to be ALL the things] What if I could make a choice or a different choice and begin there? What if the doing leads me to the knowing?
I can do that. I did it last summer when I launched the website, not quite ready, but needing to show up because I was so over reaching for perfection, reaching for all the final details. "What if undone is complete," I asked myself. Guess what? I am still undone and I am still complete.
These words are going to be here. I am committing to them for the rest of this year. Showing up, writing them, not worrying about an image or a quote or the just right title or making it pretty or perfect. Just words. My words. Because my voice matters. I don't have to be silent anymore. I don't have to shrink and be less.
And maybe by choosing just the one thing, all the other parts of me can find the needed space to exist, to thrive.