To be perfectly honest, sometimes the thought of journaling overwhelms me. I find I am afraid. Afraid to put pen to paper. Afraid to uncover my truth. Afraid to really see myself. Afraid to find out what I truly need, what I really desire, and what is being asked of me.
It has me feeling paralyzed with where to even start. Should I say, “Dear Diary” or “Calling all my higher powers and guides” or “ Dear Cosmic Void” (this one is my personal favorite).
Should I start with an inventory of my day, or everything that I am grateful for, or should I just dive right in?
Should I journal in the morning, or the evening … or both?
What if the words don’t come? What if I am just rambling, but instead of to an actual person, it’s just to myself on a piece of paper. What if I just sit there looking at a blank piece of paper, or just start doodling?
Who I am actually talking to when I journal? What if what I uncover isn’t what I want to find? What if the truth real raw and vulnerable?
And, that’s just scratching the surface of the noise that starts to amplify. When I’m feeling out of alignment, the weight of the “shoulds” and the noise can really feel like a massive ton of bricks
Fortunately, I know that I am not the only one who finds quieting my mind down challenging. I’ve asked so many others, especially my clients, who all seem to share similar struggles.
Because most of us hold fear around intimacy and vulnerability. I know, for me, this is a space I tried to keep at arm’s length in my younger years as I interacted with others, with God, and (honestly) with myself. I always had my armor on, and had a wall built a mile high around my heart.
I find I struggle in knowing how to talk to God sometimes; how to pray AND (more importantly) how to really listen.
The listening piece being the hardest.
Stillness is not something that has come easy to me.
I’ve been scared to quiet my mind down, to get centered and really ground myself. It’s been a challenge to immerse myself in the experience of going within (meditation is another space I have struggled with).
I don’t know about you, but my ego has a LOT to say in this arena.
There is a fear of truly letting go and being in full surrender. There is a fear in “expanding until there are no edges” (a term one of my spiritual teachers shared with me a few years back).
There is a fear of fully seeing myself, and in really being seen.
In fact, isn’t that the biggest dichotomy we all face in our journey and exploration: On one hand, we want someone, at least one person, to truly see us. On the other hand, we pray that no one really sees us, not fully, at least.
I tend to isolate myself, to hermit away, from others, even from God, when the fear rises and I feel lost … and, most vulnerable. I’ve learned over the past several years to recognize that and to reframe it.
It’s when I find I need connection the most. And, sometimes that’s when and where my pen leads me back to my heart, and my truth.
I find it so ironic the duality we live in every day. This desire to fully be seen and the fear of what will happened if we really are. To be seen in all of who we are: the splendor and the mess; the good, the bad, and the ugly.
To be fully seen in all of it.
So, here I am facing my fears, journaling out my truth (and the lies I’ve been holding onto). I’m holding up a mirror for my soul to peek in.
Here I am sitting by the fire listening to a beautiful instrumental piece of music, opening my heart and the letting the words flow.
Here I stand, naked in my own vulnerability, in my own discomfort in my messy truth, expanding until there are no edges.
I’m still scared, yet I am choosing to show up.
I am honoring what I need most. I am choosing faith over fear, to continue my own healing with what still needs to be released and shifted, and to let hope and curiosity guide me forward.
I am allowing myself to be with me.
I also know that I don’t need to know. What I mean, is that journaling can be whatever it needs to be on a particular day, or this very moment. I can color and draw pictures, I can write rhymes and poems, and I can just let words flow and stop having them have to mean anything.
I can just be.
Whatever I journal can change form and shape every day. That’s not the point. The magic is not in the consistency of style, it’s in the consistency to show up for myself, with myself. The magic comes from the consistency within the practice, itself.
For there is a peace that washes over me as I write. Even in this moment, where I am actually journaling the words, a quiet gentleness holds me in her lovely embrace. I feel a deep softening take hold as the words easily come, and the fear begins to dissolve.
As I continue to be with all that I am, and allow the stillness to surround me like a warm, cozy, comfy blanket, I recognize my journey in opening to GRACE is truly one that is ever-evolving, ever-dynamic, and ever-loving.
I feel safe, protected, supported, and held. It’s the dawn of a new day. A day that calls to me, and of me, to bring my gifts forward, to shine my light brighter, and to give of myself more.
That quiet whisper from within gently says:
“Go forth, love. Share with the world the unique brilliance that is YOU. Shine your light, my little star, so that it may illuminate the darkest corners and shadows. For you have all that you need already within you.
I am right here, always. You are safe, my love. You are deeply loved and supported. You are forever held in my embrace. Your words matter more than you know. So, write … I am here for you.”
So as I close my eyes to listen to that gentle whisper and let her powerful words pour over and through me, I can feel that truth is breathing new life into my body. I feel my spirit rise and my soul awaken. I am feeling all that is being called through me, and of me.
In this present moment, I feel complete. I feel whole. I feel centered and grounded. I feel fully here in the present, in the now.
I am all that I need to be.
It simply took a few minutes of journaling to get there. A few moments to slow down, look my fear in the eye, and simply be open to the realm of possibilities, to the messages wanting to burst through, to my own innocent curiosity, and to my own faith.
I am reminded once again of the power of journaling, and in being alone with my thoughts. Of course, it wasn’t as scary as I wanted to make it out to be … it never is, is it? Oh, those crazy stories we like to tell ourselves and convince ourselves are true!
For what is really true is right here and now, in this single moment.
So, I encourage you to face your own fears, to sit with the discomfort (if, like me, you find stillness and journaling challenging sometimes), and to put pen to paper. You might be pleasantly surprised with what comes through.
It doesn’t have to be for anyone but you. Just listen to that gentle whisper that is inviting you in. Trust the your own truth will, indeed, set you free.
So, shine YOUR light, my little star.
Listen the beat of your own heart, the quiet voice whispering truth from within. Allow yourself space to just be, space for silence and stillness, to open your heart (and mind) to what wants to channel through you.
The point is to just start. Pick a time, either morning or night. Then, do it again tomorrow. And, then again the next day. One of the best ways to bust through our fears is to simply get the momentum going.
Instead of waiting to be motivated to get momentum (which, this outdated cliché NEVER works, by the way), get the momentum going first. You might be surprised how motivation kicks in and what begins to open up.
I’ll even give you your first prompt: Dear Cosmic Void …