As I sit here in this late evening hour, writing to you, listening to the rain and the lightning outside my window, I feel like I should feel grounded, calm, joyful. I love the rain, and isn’t it dreamy that there’s a storm at night while I’m writing? Instead, I’m feeling unsettled. The baby didn’t go down well this evening, our schedules are off because of the time change, and I am not entirely thrilled at how I showed up in some moments of my day. I also baked banana bread, did a reading lesson with my son, and laughed heartily at the baby’s hilarious antics. It was a day spilling over with life and all the things that life is made of.
I’ve started two other posts about beautiful things that I cannot wait to share with you, and they’re both asking to wait a little longer to be shared; the words aren’t quite there yet in a shape I can paint with my keyboard. I’m noticing that I am feeling a push to overcome the unsettled feeling, to push it aside, to distract myself from it, to move it along. I keep thinking that in order to write, I need to feel a different way. Not unsettled.
But you know what? This is the thing I need to be writing to you about tonight because it’s what I am living in this moment. I want The Depth to be an accurate account of my perspective, a real view of where I sit, what I walk, and how I live.
And this is the truth I am holding tonight: my writing is not conditional unless I allow it to be.
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