Diving Past Doubt

Doubt can be a powerful distraction. 

Doubt can keep us from navigating our way through unknown waters. We’re afraid we’ll fail, or won’t like it, or will get it wrong, or will be mocked, or taken down, or we’ll change so much our friends won’t recognize us, or we won’t finish, or we’ll be alone.

Some of these things might very well happen. But we don’t know that they will.

Doubt is stringing out stories. Parts of us are listening. 

Hello there, Doubt. We see you. We feel you. We hear you. Is there anything we can do that will make you feel more comfortable? Yes? Great. We’ll give you a little bit of that: some calculations on a napkin, a little research, a few forays closer, some practice, an initial conversation.

Hello there, Doubt. Feeling more comfortable? Not really? Ah. Well. Let’s just dive in. Let’s just start to swim. Let’s just keep swimming anyway.

The shore is inside us. Let’s head out on the water. 

What have you been doubting lately? I’ve been doubting my ability to write a literary novel. I start to write and immediately everything that is wrong with it comes forward. What do I do? Re-center and just let words come. I’m diving in, and the story is unfolding. Will it be good? I don’t know. I can’t know. All I can do is swim. How about you?

#doubt #ToDare #writing

Choose Love (Even When It Sucks)

Love is worth it. Even if it breaks your heart. Anything that makes more space inside is worth the risk. 

I was reading journalist Laurie Penny this morning. She spent the night at a friend’s apartment because of a bomb threat. Not a bomb threat to her building, but to herself, personally. I watched last night on Twitter as this went down. Many people want to shut her up. All the time. She writes of her need to keep writing, even in the midst of the exhaustion of constant bullying.

I would posit this: writing, for her, is like love. She needs it. It fills her. It feeds her and is part of her. What she writes is also larger than her, and that is important too. What she writes is a message sent out into the world.  And the consequences of writing, it seems, can sometimes break her heart.

Love is – or can be – in everything we do. Love is with us in the midst of the onslaught of misogyny and hatred. Love is with us in the midst of racism, injustice, and murder. Love is with us if we let it. Love is what helps us to keep choosing our lives. 

When you feel worn out, or pummeled, or sad, or angry, or not heard, I hope that you remember to keep choosing for the sake of love. When you feel inspired, or filled up, or well seen, or joyous, I hope that you remember to keep choosing for the sake of love.

When we choose for love (not pats on the head, not cookies, not gold stars) we are strengthened for a future we can’t know. When we choose for love, we can choose rightly, even if we turn out to be “wrong”. When we choose for love, the choice is always worth the risk. We learn something. We open. We are connected. We are changed.

We can kindle hope when all else fails us, for we have chosen for love’s sake, and for our own. And what we do then, we are choosing for the world.

#Love #Misogyny #PennyRed

To Honor Tailtiu, To Honor Life

It is said…

Tailtiu cleared the timber, creating fields for the planting of that which would feed her people. Tailtiu made this sacrifice. Tailtiu died. 

What must you clear, so you may plant and have good harvest? What in you sacrifices so your soul and body may be sustained? 

Tailtiu labored. Tailtiu passed. Tailtiu is remembered. 

Sometimes we clear too much. Sometimes the sacrifice is too great. Sometimes the sacrifice toward the future devastates us. The clearing and the planting always bring uncertain harvest, yet we are called to risk it, all the same. 

 Proud Lugh, raised by strong and gracious Tailtiu, declared festival for her memory. Her name would be exalted, her deeds would be sung.

What is in front of you, right now? What did you clear? What did you plant? What does the harvest look like? What do you celebrate? What do you mourn? 

Great games were held in her honor. Games of skill, a festival of music, dance, and feasting. A festival in which goods are exchanged, laughter rises, drink is shared. These were her funeral games. The start of every August would see a great gathering. This went on one thousand years.

We are here, living our lives. We are present with today. Time has almost – but not quite! – forgotten Tailtiu. Time will likely forget us. And yet, we are still part of time. We sow our lives into the whole. We cut the grain. We light a fire. We burn. 

#harvest #Lughnasad #Tailtiu