in the valley of the in-between
after letting go of former things or finishing well something proper
waiting for the next right thing
inhaling the weight of this unpredictable life
exhaling the fear of nothing coming again
inhaling the emptiness
exhaling the ambient loneliness ever present
i find faint comfort in darling phrases
this too shall pass
the lord is my shepherd I lack nothing
what is mine will not pass me by
instead of accepting and feeding the wallow
instead I dare to fan the flame of my pale faith
until it deepens and darkens
roots in my body so the truth
of my enoughness has already arrived even if nothing is to change
of my hope of what is to come is about to change everything
femalewriters
Lent 2022: Fasting my defenses
…and surrendering my armor.
I have spent most of my life feeling like I need to protect myself, and showcase strength in a manner that feels on my skin. I have been taught and I have experienced a world that doesn’t have my life and presence as things of importance. Well, then let me show you I’m worthy to be respected. But this actually has only pushed people away, built my own guilt, and encouraged me to build narratives of fear & separation.
Can I trust that my worth is secure by surrendering my need to self-protect? Can I hear all the words and see all the actions from eyes of compassion and grace? Maybe they are not against me. Maybe they are simply hurt and you came across their path. Maybe your lack of defenses will be a connective strength…
Today a man was very rude to me, and I felt my body tense and go into anger. My thoughts built tales about him. I was so angry that he got away with being so mean to me. Already feeling like I missed my fast… I took a breath, and slowly let go. What was under my anger and within my stories? My sadness. My fear. My ability to still hope and still go about life not expecting rudeness. That was an exception. That was not about me. My response is about me.
Advent: Day 14
I really wanted to stick to my personal challenge of writing daily blogs for advent. When I missed one last week, I justified, explained it away by saying it was my sabbath. It wasn’t a trickery. It made sense in the moment, and I really liked how that explanation bloomed out of my own mishap.
However, trying to write this week has been hard. My brain feels uninspired. My heart felt uninspired. Maybe I had used up my week’s worth of inspiration creating that 11:11 album. I listened to it on Tuesday and was sobbing myself; it does work having someone cheer you on when you feel like you’re crushed in the dumps. I skipped + missed writing the last two days. I didn’t have much to say. And I already felt like my last post was being phoned in. Why? What am I trying to prove? Who am I trying to prove to? I think it becomes a bit inevitable that you feel responsible to the community that might read these posts, and I guess I didn’t want to let you down. So if some of the last posts were eh, I’m sorry. I’m trying. Why didn’t I just say, I got nothing to say…?
But today I do have something because last night I got rejected from a writing lab I really wanted to be in. I’ve been working on a screenplay for 4 years and for this Sundance fellowship, I pulled 3 all nighters to write 5 personal essays and complete the 2nd draft. That week in October, I worked from 8a-4:30pm, had rehearsal from 6-9pm, and worked on my application from 9-3am. It was hard, and it was glorious. I felt motivated. I felt like this is what my life can be full of — meaningful civic work, acting projects that are important, and creations that could change the world. I was really excited and I sent in my application. And I waited for the last two months.
Before the no, you have not been selected, I felt hope. I felt possibility. I felt excited imagining the people on the other side seeing my story and my heart. I felt excited about a future where I could have collaborators that understood how I saw the world and where I want to take this world. My waiting was full of possibility + hope. And the no came and the flood erupted. Duh. You suck. Of course, it would never happen. The sadness. The frustration. The desire to just stop working on this story because very very honestly I may just not have what it takes. I’m sad. And I’m disappointed in myself. And my mind starts to even wander into places of comparison — why does SHE always get it? why do people like THEM get these? people like me…never…
Sometimes in the waiting, you do get an answer, and it brings up feelings and beliefs. How can these answers, which we want, getting an answer, be more helpful than harmful?
Maybe it’s a sign to take a break. Maybe it is a sign to stop altogether.
However, this I know.
It’s an opportunity to embrace the feelings and question the harmful beliefs that come up.
It’s an opportunity to invite the right people into this heartache or tough moment.
It’s an opportunity to reevaluate the deep deep goal. For me, I wanted the validation that I am good enough of a writer and I wanted a community to collaborate together with.
Every answer in this lifetime of waiting is an opportunity to witness what comes up, what we care about in this world, and who we can share. We can’t do this alone. We can’t. We are made for community.
Advent: Day 11
The faith of possibility and fulfillment walks hand in hand with the risk of disappointment. The taste of disappointment reveals what our heart wants. What our heart longs for gives way to the the potential of promises coming true. And like that, we are back at the beginning. We all experience this cycle of hope, lack, and hopefully deeper awareness of self. When the unnecessary fall away and we get to heart of what we really need and want, it expands our terrain of hope. Maybe, it’s not that we dream too big, but that we dream too small because we forget our own capacity to hold. Maybe we have to dream bigger. Maybe we have to realize, our hunger is deep and that makes us even more attentive and active.
Don’t settle.
Want more. Hope for more. Pray for more.
Dare to feel the lack which leads to that magical moment of satisfaction.
Advent: Day 10
Today’s waiting feels heavy and unfair.
Today’s waiting entices me to compare my life with others.
Today’s waiting makes me want to eat my feelings so I can get to tomorrow and hope IT HAS ARRIVED.
Today’s waiting is really forcing me to be present in each moment.
Today’s waiting made me sensitive to the arrival of the most meaningful gifts that I might not have fully felt if I wasn’t in this present state.
Today’s waiting reminds me that I can rest in my waiting.
Today’s waiting reminds me that maybe this right now is part of what’s to come. It’s already here. I’m sensitive. I’m expectant. I’m hopeful. And it’s all about the ways to build up that hope.
Advent: Day 8
To you who might be…
waiting and eager to make a move, and don’t know what to do
exhausted
excited for the new season and ready, really ready for the next season
joyful and full and want even more
on the edge of faith, a step from throwing in the towel or rediscovering god again
ready to let the wonder and joy take over even though you’ve lost the practice of it
scared and barely remembering to take a moment at a time
ready to own your strength, even if it means you’re the first person to do it
hopeful
ready
waiting —
Here is an album of love, of cheer, of affirmation, of encouragement, of togetherness.
Advent: Day 7
Just now I realized that I forgot to write yesterday. My stomach sank as I pulled out my phone to do this post on the train. My daily challenge to write every day during advent is imperfect and incomplete.
But who else is keeping track? Is there someone judging me? Yes, I wish I had written yesterday, but what does a hiccup afford me? A reminder to give myself grace. A reminder that imperfect and incomplete are fine, and if I want I can simply get back on task. A reminder that maybe imperfect and incomplete is the closest we will get to wholeness. It’s the attempt at it. It’s the working at it. It’s the laughing and crying I’m trying at it.
You can’t wait perfectly. Sometimes other things in life steer you off course or pull your focus. Those moments give us an opportunity to reevaluate — is the pivot worthwhile to pursue or is the original Hope still the main thing? Waiting is not stagnant. It’s not laying down to sleep hoping things will fall from the sky. It can allow for tasks and inspirations not originally thought of when you started the journey. Waiting can also have it’s sabbath. Maybe that’s what I allowed for myself yesterday.
Where can you forgive yourself for falling short, or where can you realize you actually have not fallen short, and simply have done your best?
Where can you be more imperfect and incomplete because that requires more faith and curiosity?
Be imperfect. Just start. Just continue. Meet you at the finish line.
Advent: Day 5
What if you’re waiting, and unsure of what exactly you’re waiting for? What if you’re waiting and hoping, with one foot in doubt? What if you’re waiting and praying, with a strong fog of insecurity and imposter?
I’m tired of the self-help, personal development and inner work that says its our disbelief and our own self-sabotage that are the biggest obstacles. I’m tired of the talk about how I’m staying small because I’m the one staying and thinking small. I’m tired of the work and worksheets and workshops that seek to strengthen me not because I don’t think there’s truth, but because it puts so much of the burden on me. I don’t want to put the blame or responsibility on someone else, and I also don’t want the heart of the onus to be on me.
I’m so dang fallible and fragile. Do I need to conjure up enough strength in order to get to the next chapter? I have too many years of trauma and generational chains to unlock. Do I have to wait for my healing to hit to get what’s been waiting for me? I’m not one to wait around for manna to fall from the sky. But I’m also tired of trying and prying and crawling and searching and digging and throwing darts and putting out more feelers and doing and doing and doing and doing. Where does my dependence on god and my personal responsibility meet? Where’s the line between trusting the divine is more powerful than any mistakes and messes I can make, and trusting that I have a part to play in my own journey?
I’m tired of job searching on Craigslist every other month, living hand to mouth, paycheck to paycheck. I’m tired of being held at the mercy of audition notices and avail asks. I’m tired of re-working and re-writing a project that I’m scared will never see the light of day, that I’m desperate for higher help. I’m tired of being single and “opening and re-opening” my heart & my energy & my vibe in hopes that folks will know I’m truly into partnership. I’m tired of suspension. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of watching the world crumble around me due to covid, bad justice at the Supreme Court, climate change, gun violence, hurt people hurting people. I want to make this life count. I want to make this moment count. I want and need god to show me, even just a glimpse, what’s to come.
Advent: Day 2
I think we should scrap from our repertoire, how old are you?, (unless there is a biological-time-sensitive-related response). After I respond with my age, first I get the the slightest of pauses, then for the most part, though I’m not sure for how much longer, it is then followed up with, oh you still’ve got time or oh you’re young, don’t worry about that! It’s as if my age placed me in this system of time + milestone expectations, and for the time being, I’m still falling within my “window of time.” The worry for me can subside, if for a bit. The anxiety on my behalf, can fade, momentarily. I have once again received a soft stamp of YOU HAVE NOT COMPLETELY FAILED YET! With the silent but ever present, BUT REMEMBER, YOU DON’T HAVE ALL DAY, ALL LIFE, GET ON IT!
Or maybe all that preamble rambling exists because I am very self-conscious of my age. Because I do have ambient fear that my time is running out — to have a partner and travel before having a baby, to even have a biological baby, to play a teenager on TV, to drink merrily and wake up without a killer migraine. Because there are many things I want to accomplish and achieve before my parents are too old to celebrate with me. Because every time I turn on the TV or read the news, all the gold medalists, literally and figuratively, are younger than me.
Waiting with full awareness of a ticking clock can be full of anxiety. Each passing minute can feel like another minute that didn’t fulfill a desire. Each coming minute can be full of pressure and expectation. Each present minute is just the cream in the middle that we don’t even enjoy. I can’t tell you to simply, enjoy the present moment, even though that is literally what must do otherwise you’ll waste your life obsessing and worrying. Thing is enjoying the present moment is pretty damn scary & brave. It’s allowing yourself to take in the space and people around you at every moment. It’s giving yourself permission not to stress about what’s about to come, which requires a trust in timing. It’s embracing all that comes up in each moment, because when you pause and revel like this, a lot comes up. Smells. Sensations. Surprises. And when this happens, you are reminded how damn human you are, how porous and how fragile and how powerful.
So every time you are tempted to stress and compare, and figure out your placement in this timeline of should’s, I encourage you to feel your feet on the floor or your butt on the chair, take a deep breath and take it all in.
What are you surrounded by?
What are you full of?
What just surprised you? And now! And now!
Advent: Day 1
Advent is anticipation, it’s waiting, it’s knowing that good is coming…and we gotta be patient.
When I’m hangry, the time before my feeding is brutal. I feel like I have lost control of my emotions. I feel like I could bite someone’s head off if they say the wrong thing. I feel pissed and then more pissed because I don’t know why I’m so pissed. When I finally realize it’s because I’m hungry, I get a spurt of light and hope. Ah, a solution!! I forgive myself for the thoughts and feelings and potentially behaviors before my need realization. Sometimes I brave the wait by trying to convince myself the hunger will pass. Actually if you press long enough, the hunger does pass. Other times I immediately go venturing for the food. Now if I’m in search for food, this time is also brutal. Because the solution is clear and feels close, yet too far away. I get focused. I get quiet. I am determined. This is also vulnerable territory because any obstacle can be a land mine. But then when I get that first bite, I am blown away, like heaven has come to meet me in my mouth. I love everyone. I love this food. I am grateful. I forget that I was once upon a time, a minute ago, about to slay and rage. I am simply overcome by this food that I knew would cure me, yet also didn’t fully know would bring me so much life.
Why this story? Because advent can feel like this slew of this and that and pissy attitude, even when you know what’s about to come. Because advent, anticipation, waiting and future promises can bring up a lot of feelings and doubts and land mines? Because you might not even know what this advent uncovers! I know the coming of hope and Justice is damn good and is about to, has come.
But the in between, the moments when your body and the world seem to take over, need to be acknowledged and embraced. It’s okay to be pissy and hungry and longing and disappointed and dissatisfied and excited and impatient and patient and … all of it. Take a breath. Allow for it.
What are you waiting for?
What do you know without a doubt, is going to happen, but just requires some trust in timing?
Can you anticipate good instead of glum? Can you anticipate all your dreams and promises coming true? Can you anticipate god’s YES for you?
Are you there God? 