I wanted to write Monday about my thoughts on the Oscars. I had the day off and I intended to take time to recap all the Oscar festivities. I wanted to write about how I was drooling over Jessica Biel and about how Diane Keaton totally ROCKS and about how touched I was by Forest Whitaker's acceptance speech and how pleased I was for Martin Scorsese and how I was so scared for Jennifer Hudson during her performance with the other DreamGirls, afraid she was going to have a Janet Jackson moment, her boob falling out of her dress on national television. I wanted to write about all that but instead I was just quiet. I had a very quiet day. No music. No tv. No other people around. Just me...and my quietness. And I needed it.
I have this debt hanging over my head that is really draining me of all energy. I've been attempting to practice the law of attraction, focusing on abundance and prosperity instead of the debt itself. But debt has a way of making you doubt your value and worth. I needed Monday to sit with my fears and my heaviness and then to release it, trusting that I deserve to live in financial prosperity. I needed a chance to get real about the beliefs I hold about money that aren't serving me or my greatest good.
I also spent Monday sitting with some feelings, some grief and vulnerability, that are rising to the surface as I've been reading The Red Book. The author's spiritual journey has some aspects that are similar to mine and as I've read her story I've come face to face with some of the ways I allow myself to feel limited. I've always been drawn to God. Even as a child God held great importance in my life. God is a big deal in my life. I went through some transformations in my mid-twenties and as a result I began to realize that God was a whole lot bigger than I ever imagined, a whole lot bigger than my childhood beliefs and tradition. And so my spiritual journey took a dramatic 180 degree turn. It's been good, very good. Yet I also have moments when I bump into my heritage and can't seem to make my way through it/around it/over it. I have moments when I feel my hand is being slapped away from the thing I'm reaching out for. I have moments when I feel I'm on the edge but someone, something, is holding on to my shirt tail, not allowing me to take that next step forward. I have moments when I'm scared of what I may have to leave behind in order to live the life I long for and the sense of loss is overpowering. I have moments when I feel ashamed of what I've turned away from. I have moments when I wonder if my choices have disappointed the people I love most. I have moments when being raised to know exactly what I believe (and where to find the Bible verse to back that belief up) won't really allow me to sit in the not-knowing, in the questions and confusion. I have moments when I tumble back into 'the way it's always been' and I don't have the energy to move, much less fight. I have moments when everything hangs on me so heavily and I realize that no matter how important my spirituality is to me I have no fucking clue what God is and I wonder who the hell I'm kidding. The Red Book has been so hopeful and so affirming and yet sometimes even in the midst of all that hope and all that affirmation I feel grief because I don't understand all the tangled possibilities and I'm not sure how to embrace the questions that have no answers. I don't know how to let the journey be God and how to let that be enough, more than enough.
I was quiet on Monday in order to sit with all of this. In order to sit with the heaviness and humiliation of the debt. In order to sit with the pain of feeling slapped down. In order to sit with the grief of all that has to be let go of in order to move forward and start over. I was quiet in order to feel it instead of resisting.
Today I still feel raw and vulnerable. The debt is still eating at me and the aching of my spiritual journey is still very real. But I'm in a good place. A really good place. And in that good place I have moments when I know that it's all right here. Everything I need is right here...and I'm opening my hand to receive it.