Life As Art: The Process + the Piece

I like a lot of different blogs, but lately I've enjoyed bloggers who write honest, raw truths. Everyday stuff. Secrets and dreams.

It's important to remember that life doesn't have to be perfect - it can't be. Our homes aren't whitewashed and picture perfect. My bed's unmade and there's probably dust on the counter and dishes need to be put away.

Every meal we make doesn't have to be documented on Instagram.

Every celebration doesn't have to be watched behind a phone camera.

Life isn't a series of highlights and that's okay. It's okay if people see the messy side.

I live a pretty great life; I don't have to get up and go to work for someone else. I live on an island where it's always summer and I can go to the beach in December. I have a husband who loves me to pieces and makes me amazing dinners. I have an ocean view and a king-sized bed. I do the work I love.

It's all quite lovely, yes, but there's the messy side too. Sometimes the power goes out multiple times a day. I don't make enough money from writing to sustain myself. I'm thousands of miles away from family. Western conveniences aren't always convenient (good luck trying to find certain things).

But that's life.

I think people are afraid to present real life to the online world in the fear that others might look down on them. Just remember this - nobody has it together!! Even the most easy breezy lives have some dirt on them. There's hard work and play and love and anger and beauty and ugly.

Pull the curtain aside. Let us see life as it is. That's beautiful too.

Listening to Spirit

I feel like my spirit's trying to tell me something - that I'm not quite in alignment with God and that's why things are stagnant. Maybe getting in alignment means enjoying the freedom I have and connecting with my true self. Not the self that wants to make money and be a somebody, but the self that writes because she can't think of anything she'd rather be doing.

That's all I ever dreamed about and now I have it. I have the space and the freedom to write all day if I wanted. I wouldn't trade my situation for more clothes or regular Starbuck's trips or a high-paying job that I hate. I have everything I need in abundance. Even if I had $0 in my bank account, I'd still have everything I need.

My ego says I have to be a leader, people have to like me and spread my message. I can't be the girl who throws a party and no one shows up. But spirit says I don't have to be on top; I can go to someone else's party, still have loads of fun and help people there.

Holding it Loosely

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Alan Watt says we have to hold our writing loosely. I'm trying to hold it all loosely: words, blogging, business, creating, health, life. It's the only way to accomplish anything, I think. When we get obsessed, everything stiffens, grips. It's a feeling of desperation. 

I started this blog with no intention of promoting it all over the place or writing posts that go viral or learning techniques to monetize or incorporating SEO. I didn't want to feel pressured to teach something or show up on a certain day or write to the masses. If someone shows up and reads these words, I'm grateful, no doubt, but I don't want this to be another business in the back of my mind. How can I make money off this? kind of thing. 

I just want to show up and write. Probably about spirituality, maybe about writing, maybe about other things. That's the beauty of holding it loosely. 

My anxiety's been high over the past three days and I have no idea why. Nothing's changed, I'm taking my medication, but I had a panic attack two days ago - the first one since I started taking medicine again. My chest hurt, my breath all over the place. I knew deep down I wasn't having a heart attack or that my lung had collapsed, but there was still that little piece of darkness slithering inside me saying, "You're going to die." I've dealt with panic attacks for 13 years and they never get easier. I can do this or that to prevent them from blowing completely out of proportion, but they're never easy. Three days later I feel like I can't take in enough oxygen. My ribs hurt. The place where the first chest tube was inserted pricks with pain every now and then. Scar tissue? Damaged nerves? I don't know, but it doesn't help the anxiety.

This week I want to practice yoga and meditate and heal whatever anxious energy is built up in my body. I want to read and journal and work on my novel. I want to put my heart and soul into the e-course I'm creating.

I want to hold it all loosely.