(For anyone needing to be in the moment and not 10 steps ahead)
I'd always imagined that whenever I reached the top of Skellig Michael,** I'd have an exhilarating moment up there in the blue sky with the bluer ocean below. Time would stand still with me and create an unforgettable memory. Missing from my vision was the "guide" at the bottom of Skellig Michael, who serves to instill caution/scare the hell out of visitors before directing them up the stone steps...without him. Also missing were the severe drop offs down the side of the mountain and into the ocean. Instead of barriers such as rails or ropes defacing this sacred place, there seems to be a common sense understanding that if one goes up the 600 steps and fall to their death,...well...'sometimes that's just bound to happen...such is life.' Reaching the top, I realized the only thing scarier than going up, would be coming down, when the views of the drop offs are almost impossible to avoid. The monks went up and down these steps regularly. They likely often had mist or fog on their side and could see only the step before them. I could do that. I could just look at one step at a time. I had to, because if I looked beyond or looked to see what someone else was doing, the disorienting view might throw me...such is life... Exhilaration came only after we reached the bottom. With it came a sense of peace. I had felt compelled to make it to Skellig Michael and from this sacred place, I'd received a lesson in being present - in being in the moment and in trusting that when I come upon an unstable step or I'm unsettled by a gust of wind, ..I'll deal with it...but not before. Courtney A Brown **Skellig MIchael is a steep rocky Island about an hour by boat off the coast of Ireland. Because of its remote location and the limitation on the number of visitors, the 7th century montastery at the top has been well preserved. The monastery is reached by climbing 600 stone steps laid by the monks.
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(For anyone attempting to keep a commitment to themselves.)
When I committed (to myself) to publish a daily thought, I forgot that ten days later, I'd be traveling and off my morning routine of solitude that allows me to put down whatever I think is asking to be written. This week I'm sending out my notes from my parent's house, which sits on a gravel road outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming. As much as I love being here, with them and my husband and daughter, it would kill part of me if I didn't continue to write these posts. I've had many false starts to doing what I love, where I let distractions, other people's needs or my lack of confidence get in the way. To hear myself say,"I really wanted to, but it was just too difficult to find enough time or quiet to write," at this point in my life, is intolerable. Before committing and throwing my knapsack over the wall, I wrote a daily unpublished "note" for 21 days. I wanted to see if this daily practice was possible given my limited time. Also, I thought if I built up a supply of posts, I could use them when the well of ideas ran dry, or some life circumstance got in the way. Once I started though, I realize that in order to build creative confidence, I'd have to trust that ideas would always come - the well would never run dry. And, if I wanted to develop a stick-to-it-ness confidence,...I'd have to stick with it. Fallback plans would only have me believe that sometimes this won't be possible. Short of being dead or in a coma, this is going to have to be possible. How it goes, is to be seen. But if I can do this under the most inconvenient and difficult circumstances,...then,... I can do this. So to the universe, I say "Bring it on." Courtney A. Brown To send this note to a friend:
It's been a week since I threw my knapsack, and committed myself to write these daily notes. What seemed like a fabulous idea eight days ago,...now seems like ...a pretty ...good ...idea. There will be days when this will just be an idea and other days when this will feel like one of the worst ideas I've had.
I didn't known what this practice would require as far as time or inspiration, nor did I know where it would take me. That was the idea - to learn to trust the process and know it would unfold in unexpected way, just as it should. I believe creativity requires this, as does a contented life. Such spiritual strength training is similar to the task of a hamster in a maze who knows there will always be an opening to allow them to move forward. They trust as they turn each blind corner, the answers will be there ("This way," or "No - dead end - turn around"). They have to trust, because if they don't, they'll never reach the food they can smell - the food that awaits them. The soul, knowing there is something for us, will point us down a path. We can stay, insisting to see the destination, or we can follow the path, trust the directions will reveal themselves one at a time and find out where it takes us. Courtney A. Brown To send this note to a friend: |
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