Loving our becoming
Letting nature take shape
This smooth, fresh sheet evokes excitement and love as the nib glides across the page. The unwritten pages of a new journal, a cushion supporting new beginnings. I amused myself with this dawning: the unwritten—the blank, the void—being a support.
What insights can I draw from my embrace of these blank pages that will support me in how I relate with the future?
I used to be intimidated by a new journal. The leaden weight of that first word now acts as a ballast, an anchor, for me to waltz along these lines. It matters not what I write; it matters I love what I write. I love meeting myself on the paper, and it goes beyond the words I use. It is also in the way I draw each letter and connect one to another. The movement of my spirit on display in my penmanship: carefree and expansive and full.
What’s the difference between the blank page in my book and the blank page in my life? What parallels might I draw?
The future is a vast playground. Where do I begin? What is my place in it? What do I need to be ready for it?
I look at my questions and I ponder over how I have been responding to them from the place of a writer.
Where do I begin? — Here. This blank sheet. This first line. Put down the date, draw a line, plant your first word, and flow. A word opens into a sentence; a sentence, a paragraph; a paragraph, a story.
What is my place in it? — I am infusing the journal with my spirit as my pen inks the paper. I show up fully on these sheets. And at times, when the ink floods, I write on alternate pages. I do not show up on pages with ghosting (oh, how fitting the word,) and there is still the ghost of me on them. I breathe life into my current location, and sometimes, ripples happen.
Knowing my place is standing in my depth in relation to the mystery, feeling the gap widening into vastness while still being in my dignity and reverence. Yes, being a speck in the cosmos and not shrinking or exaggerating. I make up the cosmos.
What do I need to be ready for it? — Have you seen any child at the playground asking how to play? They run off with their friends or to whatever catches their fancy. They fall. They cry. They get up, laugh, and play again. What is needed is intimacy with myself to connect with my immediate experience and allow myself full expression.
That which we fear longs to be accepted.
Through my writing inquiries on my relationship with the future, it is becoming clearer that what I was apprehensive of was not the playground of the future but the morrow of me. My stories of inadequacy breed fear. Will who I become be sufficient? Or too much? And of course, this is too familiar.
What’s your relationship with who you are becoming? Whose lens are you viewing through?
The other huge discovery I made: my parents feared what I would become. That was the message that landed on me as a child. If they gave in too much, they believed I would be spoiled. If too much of this, I would become that. In their earnest attempt to prepare me for life and desire to give me the best, they over-compensated. Much of their behavior was driven by fear. I did not have to be an A-student or excel in anything, that was a bonus. I did not need to be gifted or successful. They had little expectation of me in those aspects. I simply had to be nice, not fail terribly, not be bad-tempered, not mess up, not treat people badly, not be inconsiderate, not make mistakes, not be ill-mannered, not bring shame to them.
My childhood was well-defined by boundaries. As long as I stayed within them, I pretty much have the freedom to play. Except the space left to play felt really small. I was shaped by rejection, which I continued to shape myself with later on in life—stunting my own becoming. I was holding back my blossom.
How would it be for us to be re-shaped by love? It will be a celebration of what is, a welcoming to assume any shape we are called to.
So maybe it is not about being re-shaped by love but being shaped by nature, the very nature of our seed, held by the soil of love.
Love is excited no matter what becomes of being. Love calls out to the uniqueness held in each seed like the warm spring breeze caressing the buds, patiently welcoming them. Love is the daylight receiving and holding the awakening of the blossoms, supporting the mystery to unfold. Love is curious and open, sincerely meeting the mystery with tender wonder, greeting it with gratitude and reverence. Show me what you are, I want to know. Show me what you are becoming. Whenever you are ready. Love dissolves the shame, melts the barriers—relaxing these hands over my eyes, kissing my eyes open to meet the love that I am.
I am the future receiving me.
I deliver me.
Birthing the quiet
Blossoming of silence
Here. How loud I land.
Light pouring through our cracks
Out into the world
May we fall in love with our being and becoming.
Happy Valentine’s Day. Thank you for reading. ❤️