#31daysoffrailty,  #write31days,  Glory

seeing and being seen

Ok, God, point taken. It’s apparently time to break some new ground.

Welcome to the new view (blog theme) – I’m hoping its even more welcoming!  Thanks for coming (back).

So, this cool thing happened to me.  I was outed.  A lovely magnanimous blogger that I connected with during the #write31day experience last month (in which 100’s of bloggers took a topic and wrote on it daily for a month)  chose to feature my blog in an Instagram post alongside some really amazing other writers. Now, like most people, I think social media is fun and I have more apps than I can use (Periscope is my newest fave), but this writing space still feels quiet and private.  I come here and it is still like sitting in my early morning sun-room alone, except with a bigger window.  Call me crazy but I find myself covering my eyes and whispering, “You’ll never find me!” like a child playing hide and seek, musing that if they aren’t seeing, they are not seen.  I have some things to say, some stories to give,  but I mainly want to stay a decent distance from view while I do it.  But I am seen.

It made me feel good, being shared, and then squishy, and then I wondered why she decided to shine a candle my way when everyone else she mentioned has much more content (much more everything) to offer.  I have no illusions – this is a very basic blog.  I just barely know what I’m doing (giving the blog a new theme this week took me h-o-u-r-s ).  But words – words are my thing. That’s never been confusing.   And without thinking too hard about it, what I felt when a bunch of people suddenly came to check out this place was that a voice had said, You’re up, girl.  Like, it’s my turn.  Time to push my chips (words) to the middle and bet the farm.  The time seems right.  I have just enough guts for the next few steps, and basically that’s all I ever have. For now, that only means I’m here cracking open the truth I’m finding together with anyone who is watching. Even if I’m seen.

Thank you, Sara.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. – Marianne Williamson

When I was in the child-rearing years, I kept this excerpt from A Return to Love magneted to the side of the fridge where I stood to cook dinner.  It lived there so long that it became grease stained and ripply.  I would glance at it sometimes to be reminded that I may feel small but I am not small, and neither is anyone.  We can play our part and use our special talents in small ways and call it humble (even selfless) when in reality, playing small is sometimes just SAFE.  I think we recognize this in our friends and family long before we can admit that we’re doing it too because it’s always easier to see what’s going on over there.

The other reason I believe we play small is that the world has us convinced that all skills should be able to translate into cash – that value lies in the marketability of one’s gifts.  May I just ask you this, though?  If your amazing daughter shows you a special skill that you know she was born with – a uniqueness that is more than beautiful, it’s descriptive of who she is, are you going to tell her that it has no value unless it can be parlayed in to a career? Gosh, I hope not.  Can we find ways to treasure the gifts that make us all beautiful? Can we learn to do this for ourselves?   Can I?

I learned this week that to grow garlic, the gardener separates a head into cloves, leaving their papery skins intact, and submerges them in about 5 inches of dirt.  Oh, sure, there’s more to it, but I was intrigued to learn that the fruit of a garlic plant, the same clove that we squish into foods we cook all the time (in my house that would be daily) is actually that plant’s seed – its means of reproducing.  And so are we (you little garlic clove).  We are our own harvest to squander or to feed to the world.




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