words have been stirring in my soul, blurring lines of ink on a page that are hard to make out as they stay jumbled in my head. they burn with passion and intensity demanding to be set free.
write them
no, no, no… before i can write them i must first create the perfect space in which to write. it cannot be released until i’ve prepared a sacred place to ground my body and release that which is burning inside me. so, i methodically declutter and simplify the space i have.
please, just write them.
i will, i promise… but not yet. it has to be just right. i obsess over candles, flowers, chairs, and desks. i crave connection. sanctuary. stillness. inspiration. life. so i attempt orchestrate it all. i buy the desk, the chair, the flowers, the candles… i even find a quote that describes this soul on fire feeling of the words brewing within me.
and as i sit down to reflect in this space for the first time, i freeze.
no words.
because what if they are not enough.
and what if they are too much.
and i realize what i have claimed to be doing to “set the stage” for my soul to open up was really that perfectionist trembling with fear.
fear of failure.
fear of success.
fear of being hurt.
fear of hurting others.
all because of words.
while i’ve written for a long time now, my words are different.
they are no longer spewing with the joy of naivety, the bliss of ignorance, or prettied up by subconscious denial. for years i penned my inspiring life stories *eye roll* under the blog name journey of a dreamer. and it was all as true and genuine and well intentioned as i knew how to be.
but these words.
they are raw and jagged, dripping with the blood and tears ripped from my very being in the process of my unbecoming.
these are the words that have woken me up, the words that have welcomed me home.
when i said earlier i was craving connection, sanctuary, stillness, inspiration, and life…
i was looking for that in a physical space to create some sort of “holy moment”
….when all along those things were within me. the act of projecting those cravings on to the physical discounted the power that pulses through my heart, soul, and fingertips.
connection. sanctuary. stillness. inspiration. life.
those aren’t found in a place, they are found in me. in my words.
i’ve had them all along.
and now it’s time to set them free.
i’m scared of what will happen when i finally let these words out.
but i’m more scared of what will happen if i don’t.
and so, i write.
imperfectly courtney 