What’s Real in November
It’s the season when things both start to slow down (before they ramp up around the holidays in November to January), and get messy. Looking around at the last bursts of color before the mess of fallen leaves, dying flowers, and trees beginning to bare their branches, I find solace. I, too, am feeling a little messy, ready to get cozy with a cup of tea, shed what no longer serves, and connect with my own inner strength and structure.
Because things are slowing down, I finally found time to sit down and write – I’ve been eagerly awaiting writing time again to reconnect with my newsletters, which have been on a couple-month vacation. In the beginning, it was an intentional break, and as the time accumulated, so has the anxiety.
I was on a roll this spring —my dream of consistently writing bi-weekly newsletters came true! I not only felt safe sharing my words, but I also received very kind feedback and appreciation – that ever-seeking validation I didn’t know I needed, yet, embarrassingly, apparently did. Some even noticed there weren’t newsletters, and asked for more!
And then summer happened. I intentionally chose to be available to my family. My kids aren’t home much anymore (a post for another day), but suffice it to say that when they’re around, my old “Mothering First” pattern emerges. I felt it was essential to be at the ready and available at all times, despite my family making no such requests, mind you. I now see it was my subtle old self-sabotaging pattern re-emerging. Let me tend to everything else around me, and turn towards myself with whatever is left over, which frequently is nothing.
Today, as I create my writing space by burning sage, lighting candles, and making the special tea from my upcoming ritual box, I am aware of old perfectionist patterns emerging, with a bit of resistance sprinkled in. Where do I begin? How do I know what to write? How do I find the best story to break the silence and reconnect with my voice? How do I navigate the too-many desperate words, all competing to come out and be seen?
In many ways, sitting down to answer the question “What is real?” is the way in. By naming and giving voice to the feelings of resistance and perfection that have been blocking me, I actually get connected to the realness to feel my way in. Sadly, our society is so masterful at numbing, distracting, and glazing over what’s actually going on that we miss the wisdom of asking ourselves what’s really going on. What’s the story beneath the perceived story?
So I ask you, what’s real? What are the words and story in you that are yearning to be lovingly and compassionately welcomed out? I know that so frequently the pressure starts to build (from no one but myself, mind you), and it grows so strong, loud, and overpowering that I lose my connection to the inner, fragile, and delicate voice yearning to find its way out.
For goodness’ sake, there is enough outer societal pressure and expectations! How dare I add pressure too, when I know that I have choice and agency in the words I use to myself.
So I ask you again, what’s real for you this day? Who are the people you trust enough to share the authentic, real version of you? Have you been in touch with them to let them know how much you appreciate that they can see ALL of you and still love you anyway? Can you help me walk this out into the world? Grab a pen and paper – either a page in your journal or a card- and begin. Write down what’s real for you, share that with someone you trust, and invite them to do the same with you. It is sometimes scary, but also so reassuring to see and be fully seen in this complicated world.
For me, asking “What’s Real?” is like unclogging a drain. So much has accumulated (stories, experiences, pressure, expectations) that it has clogged the drain, and nothing can flow. Beginning with the simple question (or phrase) of what’s real is like the most effective, non-toxic drain cleaner that helps to get things flowing again.
Please join me in connecting heart to heart with what’s real.
