the tension of doing it afraid

it's what i stare at when i'm sitting at my writing desk at home. a card unfolded, blue sword sticking out from one side and a polaroid with find rest penned at the bottom.

each of these are gifts from my secret rebel club, a band of misfits who belong. i'm grateful for these gypsy souls who love the wordsmith in me. lately, i've felt my words slowly sinking away. not sure if it's the hours i'm keeping at work or the amount of brain-power i spend on solving problems related to lesson planning, curriculum, testing, what-have-you. not that these decisions aren't important - they are and in the moment i feel the necessity of them.

but then i walk through my door, sit at my desk and look at the space i've created for myself and breathe a sigh of relief.

this is me.

i have shards of clippings waiting to be stitched to pages in a pile to my left. on my right, is a stack of my go-to inspirations. madeleine l'engle. sabrina ward harrison. anne lamott. the valley of vision.

i have a bookcase lined with books i haven't had the chance to read. there is a sketch pad a few pages deep of color resting next to magazines still not combed through and explored. lights we plan to hang on our back porch still rest in the box overturned by the last storm and the indian prayer bell sits stoically on my desk - waiting to be hanged as well.

give yourself a break one of the pieces of paper chides me from a distance. i see the lettering and know this was handpicked for me just because. my tribe knows me well - and though this stack is weeks old in giving, i see the purpose of remembering right now. this moment.

it's one of the things i struggle with the most: timing.

i ache for creativity. this past summer, i learned that without order and a space of my own to create and make beauty {and experience Beauty} things quickly fall to pieces. the worry clouds my reason and the words disappear. i get out of the habit of pursuing inspiration and the muse silences.

most importantly, and perhaps the most dangerous, that little girl still aching for a voice becomes still.

i'm learning a lot about myself lately. apparently, it's pretty easy to throw myself into work at the expense of creating and well...abiding. weeks can pass and suddenly i realize i haven't really approached a blank page with nearly as much trepidation and holy fear as i normally do - and i recognize the difference in words haphazardly thrown.

i don't want this.

we are warriors.

brave. rebels.

we fight against the status quo...

fight for your right to abide, to slay the dragons in your life.

these words, etched on the other half of the sword card, mean more to me than the giver knows. it's these words i return to daily - giving me the bravery to continue doing what i know to do at that moment.

even if it's doing it afraid.

Posted on February 13, 2012 .