I don't like schedules. They deny spontaneity and stifle flexibility if you stick to them, and if you don't, what’s the point of having one? The other problem I have with schedules is that it's rare that life, the universe in particular, rarely respects the orderly progression of tasks that you’ve so carefully laid out so that everything gets done in a timely manner. This can manifest in things not working out the way you intended, or other people asking things of you that mean adjustments be made, and if you’re anything like me you’ll put whatever it is that has been asked of you ahead of your schedule, ahead of the things you’ve planned (read want) to do after you’re done with the chores on your list of things that must be done.
Inevitably, those desired activities/tasks remain unfulfilled, initiating a stress response, leading into a spiral of negativity and resentment - unless you’re able to embrace true selflessness… a fully enlightened state of being that few of us, myself included, reach in our lifetime.
So what’s the solution? What are the answers or the steps to strive for at the beginning of our golden solar path? I believe it’s a matter of learning how and when to say, “no” or, “not right now,” and not being afraid to take care of self while adhering to the schedule you made; recognizing when you need a moment of and for you, and not feeling guilty for doing so.
The buffalo fed on the buffalo grass that was fertilized by their own droppings. This grass had deep roots bound to the earth and was resistant to drought.
Like the buffalo, we are nourished by what sprouts from our own broken trail.
I think I mentioned earlier in the week that I found the manuscript of the first novel I wrote. I found it while tidying up the mess that had accumulated in my room, nestled in a padded envelope, the pages held together with treasury tags and protected between two pieces of stiff paperboard.
And my-oh-my lets just say, as kindly as one ever is to oneself, that I've been nourished by that one. The title is bad, the composition is… well definitely first novel… okay, let's face it and say it out aloud. It quite simply is shit.
Now I'm allowed to say that, and don't worry, though you can't hear it I'm saying it with a chuckle in my voice and a great lightness in my heart, because while it really is a terrible piece of writing, (I started reading it, and after about 50 pages stopped reading and started skimming and after a while just slipped it back into its envelope), from that beginning, I have grown into the wordsmith that I am today, and can say with all humility, that I've come a long way since then.
I will at some point try to wade through the rest of it… not out of any sense of ego, but more as a learning experience – and they do say that in every pile of poo there is some hidden gem or other, so maybe I'll find something – but then I'll put it away, safely, and keep it for whenever I next might need to see how far I've grown.
Burning your way to center
is the loneliest fire of all.
You'll know you have arrived
when nothing else will burn.
It is the same in the human journey as in the natural world. As the center grows stronger, what once was protective turns into a covering, like tree bark or snake skin, that is now in the way, and, sooner or later, we as spirits growing in bodies are faced with burning old skins, like rags on sticks, to light our way as we move deeper and deeper into the inner world, where the forces of God make us one.
This reminds me of a show we were watching yesterday about butterflies… about how the caterpillar sheds its skin to grow, and how the butterfly emerges from its chrysalis ready to move on to the next stage in its journey.
When I got home on Friday I spend a bunch of time clearing up in my room. I was looking for something, and couldn't find it, so decided to have a clear out – eventually found a bunch of other stuff that I wasn't looking for as is usually the case – and managed to find what I was looking for, as is not often the case. I got rid of a whole bunch of junk, things that I didn't need any longer, and have ended up in an environment that feels less cluttered, even though there were a lot of things that I didn't get rid of.
One of the things I didn't get rid of was an old OLD, manuscript that I found, of a 100,000 word novel I wrote pre 2003. I know that it's from before that time because of the address on the cover. I started trying to read a bit of it today, just to see what – if anything – could be salvaged from it. I can't help but cringe. I've obviously grown since then. It would make good a good fire.
I don't mean that in the negative way that it sounds; I'm not meaning to rubbish it all, rather I mean it in a positive way. It has helped me to see that I have moved on, as a person as well as a writer, and as such it has helped me to move inward, to see my inner self; to see what needs to be burned away or consumed, as a caterpillar consumes its old skin in order to provide sustenance for its continued growth, and for me to step into just letting go and throwing myself with even more excited abandon (if that were possible), into the exercises that Mir started sending me today.
As a random thought – I need a butterfly icon.