cause I’ve been downhearted
I’ve been too long cryin’
cause I wanna be ready
when joy comes back to me
“Joy Comes Back” by rani arbo and daisy mayhem
Music Monday – getting ready for the joy
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Monthly Archives: January 2013
Grabbing the blogaphone
On December 27th I received an amazing gift from my friend at Witchy Rambles. She nominated me as her “Blog of the Year 2012”.
And here’s what she said –
“This blog is written by a friend and so I could be biased. However, I have been amazed at some of the posts she has written, some of the hard things she has shared and I love the fact that she actually started blogging. I know how hard it can be to open up to the world sometimes and so I admire her courage at starting a new project and sticking with it.
I’ve enjoyed watching her find her blog voice and I love seeing into her world. I admire all the new classes and new things she has picked up this year and think it is great that she is trying out new things. So with much love I say she is my “Blog of the year 2012″
So, yeah, that made me cry. Her blog has been an inspiration to me because I always thought blogging was something people did to make money. But her blog is so clearly for herself and to share herself. And she does it with both a fierce courage and a deep well of compassion. I like that kind of blogging. And, I like her a lot.
It’s been an amazing journey so far trying to figure out what my “blog voice” is. Tomorrow I start on Susannah Conway’s Blogging from the Heart course. So, my “blog voice” might be about to get a megaphone.
I’ll try not to squawk too much into it. Feedback welcome.
What’s the word?
I’m not sure who started the trend of picking a word for each year (Brené Brown? Susannah Conway?) but I’ve been doing it for the past three years although I’ve never shared my word with anyone. Before now.
At first I was kind of worried about picking a word because I thought it was just going to be another new year’s resolution that would gradually fade by the wayside leaving me feeling inadequate (again) at the end of the year.
But that’s not what has happened. The word never played out throughout the year like I thought it would. It took on nuances, different meanings and showed up in the most unlikely places. Which I guess might kind of be the point.
Last year my word was Light.
It was the light in the darkness of depression and loneliness.
It was the light that flickered but somehow didn’t go out, even when my heart had caved in and I couldn’t breathe.
It was the light of faith that helped me to keep going trusting that it would get better.
It was the light of learning that left me not regretting the past but grateful for the lessons learned.
It was the light that needed me to learn how to set the boundaries that would allow it the space and oxygen to stay lit. And maybe to shine brighter.
It was the light that taught me that I am merely the light-bearer, not the light itself.
It was the light of the torch flame that melted glass and created beauty.
It was the light that played in hundreds of photos and changed the way I look at the world.
And it was the light of the fire in me that led me to this blog, to the need write and to the risk of letting myself be seen.
Yup, it was not what I expected. Which makes picking a word for this year both exciting and scary. Because the word that I have picked – or rather which has picked me – is Joy.
I have certainly been happy over the past year but I have not felt that pure joy that makes me feel 100% alive. The joy I feel when I’m running.
Not the first part of the run when I want to stop and cough up a lung and head for the coffee shop. But, that sweet spot where I feel like I can run forever. Or dance or maybe even fly.
The joy of singing. When the breath and sound and tones vibrate through me in a way that makes me feel like my heart has learned to speak.
The joy of waking up early in the morning because I’m so excited about what the day will bring.
The joy of seeing a loved ones name on call-display or in my inbox and feeling that surge of excitement that I get to hear their voice and their stories.
The joy of being in the trees or near the ocean and finding myself in the slowness of geologic time, rather than the pressure of human time.
And the joy of a spiritual connection which fills me so full of this life that I don’t want to waste one single moment of it on the things that just won’t matter at the end of it.
As far as new year’s goals go, my little word seems kind of BHA – big, hairy and audacious.
But since I’ve shared it, I might as well get started on it. Because if it’s anything like last year, or the year before, all I have to do is take that first step and the rest of the journey will unfold as it will. With all it’s unexpected turns.
Guess it’s time to lace up my running shoes.
Wordless Wednesday – feet at rest
My best Christmas ever
I know that people usually say, “this was the best Christmas ever”, kind of like how the Olympics are always the best Olympics ever, but I seriously think this may have been my best Christmas ever.
Christmas for me means a trip to the cold east to be with my family of origin. And, there is nothing like visiting the whole family together at the same time to make you feel like you’re in a merry festive mine field of subconscious triggers and childhood emotional flashbacks.
Food triggers (voluntarily eat salad? Never!). Emotional triggers (please don’t tell that embarrassing story from my childhood again!). Family stereotyping (she’s the messy one).
But each holiday trip over the past few years has been an interesting barometer on how I’m doing tackling this journey of whole-hearted living.
The food is slowly getting better. I can say out loud “no, really, don’t tell that story again because this is how it makes me feel”. And, “you’re the messy one, she’s the responsible one and I’m the independent one” kind of breaks down and falls apart when we start having real conversations about real life.
But there was one thing that hadn’t changed. And that was that it was again just me traveling. No husband/wife/partner. Just the single one.
I have always felt that lack-of-partner gap. The extra space in the family picture. The Christmas gifts signed only by me. The only single around a table of couples. The vague feeling of failure, of differentness, a sense of not yet achieving grown-up status. And, of sadness that somehow that one thing defined my progress over the past year instead all of successes and struggles.
And then this year, about halfway through the week, I noticed that feeling hadn’t shown up. I felt totally okay being just me. I didn’t need to be anything but me. Not thinner, not more financially responsible and not married.
And, I enjoyed every single part of the week. The sleigh ride in the freezing cold but beautiful snowy woods. Glass beading with my sister. Taking my niece for her first facial. Telling family stories around the table (loaded with food, of course!). We even managed to get a great group family photo with everyone smiling at once.
I’m not sure what changed over the past year. Or, what changed in me over the past year. Or when exactly I changed. Maybe all those nights of telling myself “I am enough” finally allowed my heart to believe it.
But I’m glad it changed. And, I think I might do this happy Christmas thing again next year.
A Fish and a Bicycle 