This year is tumultuous. I’ve had to stop some meds due to side effects and start (and then stop) others because of side effects. I’ve discovered a heart condition, possibly, and I’ve been approaching empty nest.
I’m working on the calling of maternity –I wanted to have 2 kids at least, but I think I’m being guided to help and nurture babies in a different way than by birthing them. As older children perhaps. I’m called. I just don’t know how yet.
I’ve also been re-finding my witchy self (something I felt I could only do in private and quietly in Fayetteville. I’m re-opening myself to things I have long understood and known but haven’t felt safe speaking about.
I’m called for animals as well. Ok. I’m called for cats, as always. I love them all, but I’ve always known that I’m here to help these cat folk.
I have ideas for painting, but I have fear. My fear: How dare I? Why should I think I could make art?
I have ideas for poetry, but I have fear. My fear: Who the fuck cares? It has already been said. You can’t say anything special.
And how dare I enjoy coloring books.
I’ve not allowed myself puzzles.
I enjoyed rewiring my computer setup. But I should allow puzzles and coloring –it really is all the same thing!
Why, why does it have to have an acceptable outcome? Why can’t I just make art? I know it will probably be bad art, but so what? Is that so bad?
I think it is, but I’m not sure why.
My new year’s resolution is to test, push , push all this. ALL OF IT. Because I have this thing in me that I don’t want to die without putting it out there. It has to do with love. It has to do with creating something. It has to do with service. I’m awaiting information.
