Incubating is hard work.
Sitting still takes up so much action, so much mental energy.
Moving about the day in hyper speed, ticking off boxes and strike-throughing ICals is a Hawaiian breeze compared to this.
The nothing.
The not much.
The idle.
The time before the yes and the place after the try.
The waiting.
The space where creative force has room to enter and overcome you if you open the door and let it in.
But what if this empty place means you have stopped for good?
Maybe everything is over for real this time and now you will die?
What if that’s the whole point?
I have a notion that it would be useful to get comfortable with this sensation but I really want to run the fuck in the opposite direction.
I like motion to prove that my life is meaningful.
It’s so scary. Not knowing what to do next.
Not having everything to do next.
Just standing here.
In a cold sweat.
Longing for the sacred call.
I somehow learned that heroes have to do, do, do! Lots of stuff! Use ical! Post! Blog! Get out there! Slay dragons!
Motherhood has taught me that real heroism often means sitting, stillness, being there for another–even when you want to run around with sword, getting ‘stuff’ done. xxxoxoox
wow ‘before the yes and after the try’ I love that! you bring us to the stillpoint in this piece ~ thank you ~ thank you ~ you so beautifully describe how hard it is for all of us to simply rest with faith that the next moment will, indeed, arrive……………..without any effort ~~
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhh…yes! Yes. I know I need to be still. i know I need to meditate. I even know I need to nap sometimes and just BE, but holy horseshit, can it be hard!! What a lovely dreamy post about something so effing scary. The last line gave me goosebumps…that’s what I’m a-waitin’ for… Happy Friday Fun Day!
WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?! And what have you done with Emelia?!
We will now start the investigation into which Mommy Blogger has hacked this account, tied up and gagged our kick-ass gal and is pouring syrup and baby-bump malaise all over the breakfast table.
Fairly warned.
Release our gal, or your SUV sized sidewalk-sweeping stroller gets it.
Dear Uncle, Ironically this post has nothing to do with my fattening state. It is about my creative impotence. Where did you see the word bumb? or mommy? or poopy bum? or anything motherhood related? I get that you thought it was…as a few of the commments did too which is totally fine. Folks can see what they want in my essays but please dearest uncle rest assured I am consumed by the selfishness of my own skin and art practice and will never succumb to a baby blog (unless of course it pays over $5000 a month) thats my sell out price. I hardly ever even think about this little beauty growing inside me as I am so focused on my own damn ass self. Now, that is an actual problem. But one that will not be blogged about. All my love. Thank you for your unending patience.
From a Mama times two; all the waiting may be just teaching you to surrender. An old Philosophy professor of mine told me once, that at 70 years old, it was as if he had lived 6 completely separate lifetimes…I get it now. The saying goodbye to one lifetime and moving into the next is a huge transition (I, myself entered this particular lifetime kicking and screaming!) In the words of the good Dr. Seuss, “…grind on for miles across weridish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place. The Waiting Place…”
Enjoy the uselssness!
P..S. I was horrified by the skeleton on the couch along with a woman. Was it meant to be there for shock value?
really. it scared ya! No, I just though it was kind of a beautiful image.
I think you are referring to the time nearly at the end of your pregnancy, when it is more difficult to get out of bed, to tie your shoes, to get dressed , etc. In the long, silent times of the day, reading or meditating can be helpful. For me, sleeping, taking naps, were so calming for me. RE: the darkness: for me the most depressing , waiting days were when the skies were cloudy, when it was raining, if I woke up before dawn. On those gray, dreary days I turned on more lights! I left the lights on longer! Lighting taper candles at the table cast soft, lovely light on each of our faces. To this day (40 yrs. later) I still keep the lights on. Also, I keep fresh-cut flowers in my kitchen on the stove, under the stove light to brighten my day from when I wake up until I am ready to go to sleep.
It’s coming, don’t worry.
You’re about to be blasted into a sacred worm hole. Enjoy.