Writer’s block is more akin to self-block. It’s been going on for almost three months and I sense it like the fear response a deer embodies when confronted by a lion. Except the lion is inside the deer and the deer is effectively running away from itself. I want to shy away from looking at it. Depth is equivalent to drowning. The unknown is like a murky forest where you can’t see the wood from the trees.
For the first time in my conscious memory, I am flooded with an all pervasive sense of not knowing who I am anymore & where I fit into the space around me. It feels colossal and existential and in the spirit of candour, I’m resisting it for fear of opening Pandora’s box. I don’t want to marinate in this space for too long, to become the victim of my own story or inflict my intensity onto others.
But answer me this: how do you accept yourself if you don’t know who you are? Or is this simply my thinking mind playing tricks on me again? That’s what everyone else will tell you. Hi this is G-, the professional over-thinker. I’m tired of hearing it.
Why resist? Well, because I don’t like it. I like to know where I am and where I’m going. I’ve always sought comfort in that. I don’t want to be vulnerable even though I’ve been given the space to be. I don’t feel safe even though I’m experiencing the greatest safety I’ve known. It’s paradoxical yet it’s the truth. Me the deer, running from the lion.
I’ve barely scratched the surface yet my own words have already moved me to tears. I know in my heart that the thinking mind cannot solve this like an equation. That the only way is to surrender to the absolute discomfort and let life pave its way.
I read in an oracle deck the other day that there are no right or wrong decisions; only heart honouring & less honouring ones. So perhaps the most I can do today is pray for a little peace within to listen to what my heart has to say and a little courage within to act in alignment with it.
Until next time