Where are the words….

 

The words were there.

 

Last week when I was in the shower, the warm water washing away all that is not important so clarity could solidify into an idea, a concept, words to share. That feeling of excitement that bubbles up in me at the thought of bringing something into the tangible….creating something from nothing that serves and shift the world.

But before I stepped out of the shower I already heard the baby calling to nurse so the creation had to wait.

As I went to sleep that night I tried to cement the ideas in my head by going over the words I would say, rearranging sentences in my head.

But in the morning the power of the words were faded like the mist swirling through our apple orchard that I looked out upon from my dining table.

They were there again a week later as I lay nursing on the coach, my sleeping baby girl’s breath connecting me to the presence of my own breath and the rhythm of my words flowing through my mind as if I were writing them.

But there was no paper in reach.

There was another time they came back to me and my computer was in my hand, the baby played.

But then there was the spiral of death twirling on my computer screen, mocking my attempts to say something big. The words, delayed by technology, appeared on the screen a minute after I typed them. The baby clamoring up to stand on my shoulder and starting to whimper as i try to type one more sentence. And so that 5 minutes of happy baby play only gave way to two sentences.

And then they were gone. The words. The power behind them. Just gone.

A feeling of loss as I sit down finally with space to write…3 weeks later. A few words are remembered but what was the bigger point? The ah-ha? The strategy of it all? How did it all fit together into a program, a speech , an article? I don’t FEEL the words anymore.

And the feeling of loss and frustration takes the words farther from my grasp and I am tempted to just get something tangible done, like the laundry folding, picking up the toys, taking a shower. Something that I can feel is complete and accomplished in the 20 minutes that I have rather than writing something part way only to not get to come back to it for three weeks and forget the clinch line. Only to have it sit on my computer without ever finding time to go through the process of editing it, posting it, publishing it. Whats the point in starting if it can’t be finished?

So many unfinished ideas. So many thoughts lost to the foggyness of mommy brain. And the thought of all the “wasted” time spent on things never finished when I could have spent that time with the babe instead leads to the constant question “should I really take time on my thoughts and dreams when the baby is all that truly matters to me?”

But instead of leaving my computer, I write WHAT IS. What is right now, because as a mommy I realize that is all I can do.

I hold faith that by writing WHAT IS sometimes tangible things will come out, and even when they don’t, I hold faith that my mama dribble will effect someone, give them permission or hope or a feeling of not being alone.

I hold the possibility that with the vehicle of the business I have created, I can simply live my life and write WHAT IS, and this will allow me to look around and see that all I want to be happening IS happening naturally around me. The retreats, the speeches, the homestead, the articles, the momentum, the community.

My daughter was born 9 months ago and I haven’t blogged on this blog because I felt I only had time for so much and my business blog came first.

That’s what I tell myself.

But really I haven’t blogged here because honestly, being truly REAL about what my Revolutionary Mamahood looks like gets me all confused inside.

I have been overwhelmed with how to find words for motherhood.

How can you describe what it feels like to simultaneously feel so much happiness and anxiety as you look at your child. Anxiety about the fact there is no “break” from being a mother. Even when she is in someone else’s arms or the day you finally leave her for a whole day or put her in daycare or she goes off to school, you are still a mother with all the thoughts, and feelings that go along with that. The feeling of always wanting to be looking at her but the exhaustion or boredom you feel when you spend a whole day with her alone.

The permanence of mommyhood feels heavy while at the same time the possibility of impermanence makes me want to throw up. The impermanence of life as it is right now, so perfect and imperfect. The impermanence of my child’s youth and even her life. The inevitable mortality and sadness and hurt we are all to feel in this lifetime.

It brings up so much vulnerability. The lack of control. My life lesson of surrender and fear of loss.

There is no choice to take a “break” from all these things…..the old methods of tuning out with tv or food or a vacation to the beach, or curling up in bed….aren’t really options anymore…there is a baby waking up after 20 minutes of your movie…. travelling isn’t all that relaxing with a baby….even if I wanted to emotionally eat to drown out the feelings of vulnerability, when do you have space to stuff your face as a new mom anyways?

And none of these things, even physical separation from your child, take away the fact that you are a mommy. You can’t run away from it. There is no going back.

Because now that you have her, there is no way you can live without her.

It overwhelms me to try to find the perfect words to capture mommyhood, or illustrate the journey my husband and I have been on to design a life where we can earn a living and spend time together….to share the ups and downs of creating a Revolutionary life and family and marriage.

But I know that processing all this is MY journey and therefore it is where my power is for bringing something big into the world. I know our journey can serve others.

So I’d like to re-commit to writing WHAT IS. And using this blog as a place to share whatever it is I can write in the 20 minutes (or sometimes 5 minutes) of writing time I may find in a day. No grammer, technology, editing, or perfectionism stopping me from pressing publish.

Because, even though I just re-read this post and see a million things I would change to make it more clear or easier to read, I know that if I leave this as a draft and walk away from my computer right now, this may never be finished or seen, or shared.

And maybe, just maybe, one of you will get something from this and it will start a conversation in the comments below.

Or maybe it will give YOU permission to just keep writing.

And sharing.

And creating.

Because mommyhood needs to be talked about. Because earning a living AND LIVING a good life as parents needs to be talked about.

Because I believe mamas  need to know that they can create, and share, and write, and maybe even run a business even though the baby crying will interrupt, the process may be slower, the business model will need to be redesigned. Perfectionism and old beliefs about how it should all be done will need to be released and all the possibilities allowed to be examined creatively to make it work for you without the struggle.

I sometimes ask myself, what if I gave up my business? Would that make things easier? And the answer is “I don’t even know what that would look like!” My business is so interwoven with how I live, it is the vehicle for the writing, and connection and actions, and conversations I would want to be having anyways even if I didn’t have a “business”.

The business is simply ME.

So there is no “giving it up”…. it is non-negotiable. I just need to keep redesigning this vehicle so that it keeps serving me as transportation to what I want rather than a cage trapping me in a structure that doesn’t work for the stage my baby is in or that traps me on a path that no longer reflects my values or forces me to do “tasks” that I always feel struggle getting done.

I have the opportunity to redesign what my business looks like at every moment so that it happens naturally just from living my life.

Part of my new vehicle redesign right now is embracing imperfect writing.

So here goes. 20 minutes is up. I hear the sing song of my babies voice. PUBLISH.

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