A flower may pretend to be born, but it has always been there in other forms. Later it may pretend to die, but we should not be fooled. She is just playing a game of hide-and-seek. She reveals herself to us and then hides herself away. If we are attentive, we can touch her anytime we want. - Thich Nhat Hanh
In this universe, no one comes Tabula Rasa, as a clean slate. I too, was decreed my Divine Mother, the Creator and my ancestors to be a scribe. To be able to sit with pen and ink, and to bleed on the paper. Who does that joyfully, I must have thought.
I tried hard to hide the Divine Decree. Wanted to prove myself to be a rebellious daughter, a dunce at studies, a quitter of whatever she undertakes, a chaos in relationships, turbulent angry monstress, a telemarketer, a wannabe fashion designer, a reporter, a travel agent, a nothing for a very long time, a depressed marijuana addict, cptsd thriver, a wannabe filmmaker, a traveller, a doodler, oh yes, a photographer too. ..
I saw value in me in all these places, except for the seat I was born to put my butt in; right in front of my writing-table, with a pen and a paper.
But then, life moves on. Nobody cares about the journey you have to take. Nobody cares about your souls mission till you don’t respect it yourself. But, only if you care enough to feed yourself and pick yourself up, you will find a battalion of cheerleaders, supporters and loving tribemates, and, you will realise, they have been silently holding you through; waiting patiently for you to shake up the shackles of self-imposed amnesia.
Get your ass up. Stop reiterating the stories that don’t honour your souls glory and create the one you are meant to be the heroine in.
Darling, hearts break and glaciers cry a river when you choose to douse the fire of passion that brought you here,with petty fears. These fears create not so pretty experiences, and they did so, in my journey, till I picked up the pen and decided to revel in the beauty of who I am.
Not with the casual approach of “ah, this is an easy thing to do, let mewrite a few website contents, Instagram posts, earn a bit of money”,and keep the victim story running with the money I am not earning.
What an investment scheme.
But hey, Life got me here. To work. To be. It brought me here to experience the symphony of being who I am and doing as I am supposed to do, by the divine decree.
To listen and to write.
Enough of fighting that truth.
I give in.
I swear by the divine decree, I would not give in to the following fears anymore.
Whether or not I am making sense while I write, I am only supposed to be a scribe.
Whether or not I am making a mistake!
Well, the correction mechanism installed by life is super strong. Thus, from mistakes, I shall learn
Whether or not it is good.
Depends on who reads it. Who am I to judge?
I am only creating a bridge between souls.
Whether or not I will know what to write?
May be, I won’t. In most of the cases, I don’t, but, still I will write.
I would know, as I write.
I rest my case now.
I won't flirt with my gift anymore.
I would honor and nourish it in the way it deserves to be nourished.
I seek forgiveness for the chaos caused by my giving in to the fear and withholding my gifts. Apologies.
Deep love and gratitude to all the comrades who fought while I was away. . My warriors, I am here now.
Let's get to work.