I’m reflecting on our missions and what they call forth or require of us.
I’m a writer. That calls forth from me a desire for cave time, private space, contemplative, meditative, reflective time.
It’s introverted, by definition, inward-turned, inward drawn. It’s not extroverted. It doesn’t lead to running for public office. It doesn’t attend barbeques or drink at the pub.
It walks home slowly, maintaining an awareness of everything that’s happening right now. It’s open to inspiration and watching each thought as it arises, to see where it’s coming from.
The connection is inside, into the heart, where resides the Soul.
I find small talk jarring. I’m benefitting from wearing masks because it increases the time I have to remain privately aware of my breathing, of the moment, of my heart.
I’m not sure what I’m going to do when it gets busy because Michael says he never wants the writing to drop off the table. But busyness – distraction – is deadly to depth of writing.
Be that as it may, the whole stream of people who aim to be President of the United States or Hollywood star, etc., is not a stream that I would in any way see myself as part of. I once asked Michael to promise me I wouldn’t have to attend cocktail parties and he agreed; it wasn’t in my inclination, he said, which is monkish.
I also stay off email lists. Big situation or small, a distraction is a distraction and … my life is more about avoiding them than it is about becoming a this or running for a that.
When I’m left the space to concentrate and write, it’s as if the canal doors have opened and I have a clear channel out to sea. Everything about me flows.
Everything is now aligned. All systems are go. I’m ready to do what I came here to do….