Yesterday I ran into a woman I know who sees energy. She asked me if I was pregnant. I laughed and said no. (The thought of being pregnant and possibly seeing a drop of blood is still enough to make my knees buckle). She added, It could be that a child is coming into your life without your giving birth, or it could be spiritual.

The recent shifting and sliding of my life suddenly made sense. I feel like I’m growing something big and unknown and beautiful. It’s taking an inordinate amount of energy. I’m not clear on what it is, and I don’t know how long it will take, but sooner or later I’ll give birth again. I’m preparing for it – a challenge without knowing what’s coming. I can feel life giving me exactly what I need. Opportunities, questions, choices. The right people. I’m following a trail of breadcrumbs deeper into my own forest, trusting that after the birds eat them, they’ll show me how to get out.

Life is messy. Birth. Death. Creativity. All messy. Though I know this I want it to be neat, now, today. I want it to fit into a box labeled Perfect. A part of me wants to bypass the journey and see the end result even though I know the journey is where joy lives. I see other people’s boxes and they look solid, polished, well-crafted. Much better than the mess in front of me. I get jealous. That old voice in my head whispers that I’ll never get anywhere, be anyone, unless I can look like that, do things the right way. My mind has stories to tell. Stories about measuring up and failing and being un-loveable.

Deep inside there’s another voice and it’s gotten louder over the years so that I hear it more quickly. I hear it just behind the first one now, when it used to take days for me to recognize the sound. It’s the voice of my heart. The voice that knows everyone has a mess somewhere. The one that trusts I’m exactly where I need to be. When I pause, breathe and listen to that voice, I am able to celebrate others’ successes without worrying about my own. I am able to see what I admire in them without feeling that their strengths make mine invisible. I am able to honor our individual paths without fearing that I’m trailing behind.

I am making friends with the stories that have held me captive for years, keeping me safe and small when I wanted to take a leap into big and brilliant. I thank them for watching over me and inform them (firmly, as they don’t like to listen) that I don’t need them anymore. I’m writing new stories now but even so, I’m working to not get attached. The mind is powerful and wants something to hold on to. But when holding on makes us miserable, it’s time to learn to let go. Birthing a dream. Being human. Messy. The mind can make it more, or less, so.

We’ll be examining our thoughts and our stories in the second week of the Picking Up the Pieces Tele-Retreat, moving toward both accepting them and letting them go. If you’re feeling ready, consider joining us.