“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love.”- Rumi
A good friend of mine and I were in the perennial, deep discussion about “free will.” Everyone has their own take on that, and my point here is not to discuss the answer. That’s an answer we must each come to on our own.
But we were also talking, at the same time, about “prioritizing”, something I certainly have seemed to have a challenge with. (Ugh. Anyone else out there have a love/hate relationship with procrastination and distraction?)
I absolutely loved a question my friend asked me: “Aly, what is it you can’t help but do?” So I’ve been thinking about that.
What if I started treating myself like a “real writer”, someone who can’t help but write? How would I then begin to prioritize my love of writing? How would I begin to treat it as if it were important?
Writing is the thing I can’t help but do. At least it’s one thing I can’t help but do. Through everything, it helps me cope with my life, even if nobody else were to care about what I’m saying. And the beautiful, the marvelous thing, is that now and then I hear that someone does care, and that there was some benefit because I shared my words.
What if I treated myself every single day as if my dreams are important and worth building? Even if they fail. How would I begin to prioritize testing, failing, learning...and then getting back up?
What if I started treating myself as if I were someone worthy of being happy, healthy, and living in a state of joy and abundance?
Here I am at this place in my life that feels like “sink or swim”. I can either crash and burn...or possibly fly.
At this moment, I just want to be grateful for that.
I just want to appreciate my journey to this place, this now, that is calling to me rise, to breathe, to listen to my heart. This moment is calling me to be present, awake, brave, and at the same time surrendered.
“You can’t push this river,” a lovely woman said to me. I love that. Yes, I must be patient. I must allow the river to carry me. With focus, intention and compassion, I must do what I cannot help but do. I must allow myself to be silently drawn by the strange pull of what I really love.
Now is the time for noticing and for prayer. Now is the time for being open and receptive. No, I can’t push this river.
