More please . . .

My pen has been quiet lately. I think I have something I’d like to write but I am at a loss for words. It's a strange place for a writer. I don't know where or how to begin. It's in my head and I think that's the problem—it’s not worth writing unless it migrates to my heart. My mind reduces. My heart opens. It’s in the open spaces of my heart that I take this amazing journey of faith where I know but don’t always understand. It's this sweet, invisible, wordless state of grace that always seems to lubricate the hinges of my heart.
 
There is power in words, power in story. That power can both liberate and incarcerate. They are the wings upon which I can fly and the bars behind which I am imprisoned. The irony is that the same words, the same story, can do either or both. 
 
It's been over a year since I published my book and I have ridden the rollercoaster up, thinking, "Wow, it's pretty great," and then down, thinking, "So what?" or worse, "It's pure drivel." I am capable of falling in love or in hate with my novel, and the irony is that they are opposite sides of the same ego. Like Narcissus when I become enamored with own reflection, the truth of the story metastasizes into a capital T. The "Truth" is a stagnant place that leaves no space for discovery. Conversely, when I disdain my work, I make myself too small to claim the magic of my creation or my Creator. Both paths leave me stuck in the muck of fear--afraid of losing what I had and afraid of finding what is yet to be. Well, it's time to start digging.

​Once again, enter Rufus, my spirit guide—the sacred beauty of his story is that he lived it. He wasn’t motivated by ego. If the coast was clear and if he was unleashed, he just did it! At the beach he dug every hole with the thrill of finding something new (even if he didn’t). His was a love for life born from living.
 
Socrates said, "An unexamined life is not worth living." But the inversion is equally true, "An unlived life is not worth examining." Once again it's time for me to follow Rufus's example and put my head in the sand, not to hide, but with hands, feet, and heart in motion, find what's buried and waiting to be discovered

Look what I found!