Tuesday, January 13, 2009

What a difference a few days makes . . . actually, my mood lightened the next day. I've just been too busy having fun to post an update here! Having the daily project of posing a question, listening for an answer, and recording it in a big journal, has really been working for me. Since the point is to let the day unfold according to the answer, my thought (and resulting actions) are pulled back to that spark of inspiration, all through the day.

When I was low and discouraged the other day (when I last posted) the project was there the next day, tugging at me pretty darn persistently. My year's question--What if . . .? --was there to revive my spirits and urge me on. So far, different responses to the "what if" have led me to holding a certain thought for the day; a certain action, like "smile"; or a particular activity, like "put on music and 'dance' while cleaning the utility room." I'm pretty wide open to the sorts of urgings that come.

Starting every day with wondering "What if . . " really opens my mind, directs my gaze far beyond the horizon of what surrounds me right now. I can feel so solidly mired in the rubble of a past life--parental abuse followed by broken marriage--and even though I have claimed that I am "moving forward," and have many delightful new parts of my life, I can still feel like the smell of the fire is on me, pervading everything.

But. And yet. This new project--this time of wonder every morning--is really lifting me up and out of feeling still stuck in the past. Yes, it's still scary, allowing the door of possibility to swing wide open every morning. Yes, I might find great stuff Out There. But I also tremble, thinking Monsters might come in and find me.

But. I don't think that all the time any more. The sweet little girl hidden inside me for far too long is coming out to play more and more. She has surprised me with flowers drawn on the journal page . . . with silly gooey kisses pressed all over the page after my adult's hand has smeared lipstick across my lips . . . she has made giggles spurt out of my grown-up's mouth . . . and this bubbling, unconfinable joy starts my day, dresses me with laughter, sends me out into The World to do my lists of Stuff, just like before, yet different. I giggle. I grin. For no other reason than I'm me and I'm happy.

I still live in a wilderness. I still get sad. Mad. I still cry a lot. But as always, those tears water flowers of hope. Wildflowers. Wild hope.

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