Have courage, my dear
I have just returned from a yoga class where we practised handstands and headstands. The teacher was explaining that the physical act of trusting ourselves and being brave enough to let our legs fling up into the air was a training ground for taking risks outside of our yoga class.
I have no problem with giving these physical movements a go but often feel less brave in other areas of my life. Most notably with my writing. Somehow I have taken the notion that writers must be very clever and that perhaps I am not smart enough to be a writer. So, even though I sit here almost every day and write, I still do not really consider myself a writer.
Oh, you will read through my posts and listen to me speak about being a writer but deep down inside, I still do not feel worthy of this title. It is crazy because writing is no different to any other job where people train or study to learn how to do this work but for me, there is some kind of block. Some obstuction to just allowing the writing to be what it is - sometimes good and sometimes not so good. The same as our perfomances in all areas of life.
I am trying to change this because otherwise it will remain as a stumbling block or even a very high brick wall which I am not sure how to climb over. Over on the other side of this wall is my novel. I can see it with my name on the cover. I see it being delivered to my door in a box, there are several copies inside which I can give away or keep. I hold it in my hands and turn it over and it feels wonderful to think that these are my words inside, my musings on life and our world and relationships and everything. There are observations and growth and hope inside this book.
So how will I knock this wall down? The one that separates me from the realization that my writing is good enough, that it deserves to be read, deserves to be published?
Bit by bit, I suppose. By taking chances, by sending my work out into the world even though it may still be imperfect, even though I am imperfect. This Sunday evening, I will attend a creative writing and reading night at my local cafe where I will have the chance, in fact I am expected, to read out loud some of my writing. I am scared. But I will do it and I will probably live to be back here telling you how badly or not so badly it went on my next post.
The title of today's post, "Have courage, my dear...," is a message to myself and to all of us. There is much less to be afraid of than we think there is and the really scary things in life happen without our control anyway. So we may as well take a deep breath and go for it where the smaller things are concerned, things like whether anybody likes my writing or not, or whatever it may be for you.
Sending love and taking a deep courageous breath for us all. K.xxxxxx
I have no problem with giving these physical movements a go but often feel less brave in other areas of my life. Most notably with my writing. Somehow I have taken the notion that writers must be very clever and that perhaps I am not smart enough to be a writer. So, even though I sit here almost every day and write, I still do not really consider myself a writer.
Oh, you will read through my posts and listen to me speak about being a writer but deep down inside, I still do not feel worthy of this title. It is crazy because writing is no different to any other job where people train or study to learn how to do this work but for me, there is some kind of block. Some obstuction to just allowing the writing to be what it is - sometimes good and sometimes not so good. The same as our perfomances in all areas of life.
I am trying to change this because otherwise it will remain as a stumbling block or even a very high brick wall which I am not sure how to climb over. Over on the other side of this wall is my novel. I can see it with my name on the cover. I see it being delivered to my door in a box, there are several copies inside which I can give away or keep. I hold it in my hands and turn it over and it feels wonderful to think that these are my words inside, my musings on life and our world and relationships and everything. There are observations and growth and hope inside this book.
So how will I knock this wall down? The one that separates me from the realization that my writing is good enough, that it deserves to be read, deserves to be published?
Bit by bit, I suppose. By taking chances, by sending my work out into the world even though it may still be imperfect, even though I am imperfect. This Sunday evening, I will attend a creative writing and reading night at my local cafe where I will have the chance, in fact I am expected, to read out loud some of my writing. I am scared. But I will do it and I will probably live to be back here telling you how badly or not so badly it went on my next post.
The title of today's post, "Have courage, my dear...," is a message to myself and to all of us. There is much less to be afraid of than we think there is and the really scary things in life happen without our control anyway. So we may as well take a deep breath and go for it where the smaller things are concerned, things like whether anybody likes my writing or not, or whatever it may be for you.
Sending love and taking a deep courageous breath for us all. K.xxxxxx
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