I want to share here so badly. I have that itch for writing, the kind of writing you do in a quiet cafe on a gray afternoon with soft jazz playing while rain pours outside the window. The kind of writing that gathers you inward, wrapping you in a warm embrace and catching all your jumbled, rambly, unsure words.
Yet the words feel so jumbled and rambly and unsure that it's hard to get them out. Despite the itch.
And so I live in my gray area for a bit longer. I hold onto the jumbled words as my own, shared only to the closest of souls and the pages of my journal. I let the pieces fall around me, trusting them to be caught and held. I let it all go.
It's rather like living in limbo-land. Going about my days without a shred of an idea of how they'll end up, of where I'll be next month, of where my next thought will take me. (They're prone to running wild before I can reign them in.) And yet, despite the limbo, there's a decisiveness about the state. A conscious decision that with each step, though you're positive you're in limbo-land, you'll continue taking those steps.
And so really, it's all about trust.
Trust that this limbo isn't forever. Trust that all I must do is breathe and feel, and breathe and feel again. Trust that letting go of attachment to all these crazy expectations is totally, absolutely necessary and possible. Trust that following my intuition and listening to my body is how I'll know where the next step is. Trust that I'll take that step once it presents itself. Trust that all is unfolding.
It's a lot of trust, this limbo land. An inordinate amount of trust. Sometimes a ridiculously scary amount of trust (okay, all the time).
But choosing to be here, while visualizing being there......it's kind of a magical place.
"Wizards assume success. Master manifesters don't 'wish' or 'hope' that their magic is going to be effective. They know it will be. They rely on the science of it. They believe that on some dimension, another reality already exists and all they need to do is bring that manifestation down to Earth. Pluck."