Last night, I got excited about something - for the first time in a long time. I haven't felt that spark, the ignition of something powerful and true, for waaaay too long. This fire kept me from sleep for hours.
The flame was writing. Seems pretty simple when I type it out, but it's important for me to acknowledge and affirm that I am a writer. I am a writer. (Saying it over and over helps me believe, you see.) I have had many blogs thus far in my life; several of them are still active. It annoys me to think that all my work is scattered across several venues. At first I resisted starting another blog, but in this new chapter I am creating a new life. It seems fitting to create a new virtual space to record my thoughts and practice my craft.
Yet, I am fearful.
Writing makes me vulnerable. Without knowing me well, without understanding the true meaning behind what I type, my intent can be lost in translation. Your eyes can see what I don't and if you are a certain type of person, you can twist my words to convey what benefits you. This has happened to me before and I am still wounded from misunderstanding and betrayal. I could choose to live in this fear forever. Instead, I choose love.
Love is greater than fear. This is my choice.
It's December now. This month's arrival has been abrupt and surprising. I spent 6+ years attending and loving a church that emphasized Advent. This tradition instilled in me the desire for tradition and ritual - the lighting of the candles, the anticipation, the waiting, the acknowledging of the darkness. I loved the spiritual meaning behind expectation - the coming of Christ to earth. My favorite part about Advent became the permission to be in the darkness - to be present in the longest nights of the year, to wait and watch for the spark.
In many ways, I can see that my life this whole year has been an Advent of sorts. It has been painful, empty, and so, so dark. At times, I have been impatient (to put it mildly), wanting to be out of it, wanting to be free, to be new. But dissolution as well as creation both take time, and for me have both happened in the dark.
So, last night when I felt the spark, I sensed that Christ, as a symbol of hope and new life, was indeed on the way.
Last month, many friends practiced gratitude in the form of 30 days of Thankfulness. Per my usual, if everyone is doing it, I definitely won't. Instead, this month I am creating my own practice of 30 Days of Action, in recognition of Advent. Thought it would seem contrary to the silence, darkness, and stillness of waiting, I choose to be active in the darkness. I choose to MOVE.
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