Falling Up

Does anyone else have this problem? I get a message saying... your browser is no longer supported by Blogger. You may experience problems. Some features may not work. Try Google Chrome.

I download Google Chrome.

I upgrade my IE.I even change the design of my blog to add spice and sizzle (and to appease the blogging gods in case they were bored with the old look).

I log in this morning. Bah! Humbug! The message still appears at the top of my NEW POST page AND my new post page is all messed up! The window to type in is smaller. Only the top half of the 'features' banner is visible and I don't have an HTML button any longer (at least not one that I can see).

Harumph. Time to get a real techie to take a look.

In the meantime, I'll keep on writin' and readin' and doin' the rithmitic'. Blogger is not adding up to a whole bunch of ease of blogging.

Regardless, as I drifted off to sleep last night, a poem started to write itself in my head. I debated turning on the light and writing it down and opted instead to let sleep coddle it.

In the morning, there it was, still waiting. Still prickling my creative juices. Still looking for expression.

I meditate.

I make coffee.

Let the cat out.

Turn on my laptop.

Still it's there.

I consider ignoring it -- but as I said to my eldest daughter last night, it's not good to ignore gifts from the Universe.

And a poem is a certifiable gift from the Universe.

I start writing and the muse awakens and begins to flow.

FALLING UP

Falling
I catch myself
standing up
to my defenses
beating me
down

Standing up
I find myself
holding on
to my fears
falling
apart.

Finding
myself
standing up
I catch
my ego
crumbling
apart
amidst
my fear
of falling
down.


Now, yesterday, Mark from Mark is Musing, commented that I was deflecting. I pondered that comment. Wondered, seriously? Am I?

I also had some of that, harumph. Who is he to tell me who I am or what I am! attitude going on -- but that's just my thirteen year old not wanting to listen to someone telling me the obvious.

And in truth -- Mark may or may not be right. Maybe I am deflecting from what is going on in my belly by writing universally of what is going on in my belly.

There's a gift in that -- just as there's a gift in Mark's comments. (I'm not trying to pick on you Mark my friend. I appreciate your voice and it's ability to awaken my internal knowing.)

Because in Mark's words was the gift of 'seeing' that what I write comes from within me. It is inspired by 'the flow', that collective consciousness that rises up and awakens me to my truth, my knowing, my being.

I sometimes call her 'the muse' -- mostly when poetry is involved because in poetry, the flow is so apparent, so evident I cannot lay claim to her creative process.

Every morning, writing this blog, I trust, 'the flow' to appear. I trust the process to unveil itself. To flow through my body, into my arms, through my fingertips and out onto the screen, where (blogger willing and Shaw Internet cooperating) the words will appear on your screen too!

And every morning it happens. The muse awakens. The flow begins. And voila! A blog appears.

I don't start with an idea for 'here's the lesson I'll teach today'. I don't start with a concept to flesh out. I start with a feeling. And let the feelings flow. Sometimes, I don't know what lays beneath the messages. Sometimes, I don't have a clear picture of what the 'inner' meaning or workings of what I'm writing is. And always, it will resonate with each of us differently.

For me, the process is in the writing. The knowing is too.

Which is why comments are so appreciated. Even when I don't respond.

(I should make this blog a posthumous submission to Duane Scott's Pleasantly Disturbed Thursday's that has now moved to Fridays -- but this is Thursday so I am pleasantly out of synch.)

And then, after writing that, it becomes a little bit clearer. I am so in awe of Ruth at Synch-ro-ni-zing who responds to every single comment she receives.

Seriously. How does she do that?

I too want to respond, but 'the critic' in me whispers his vile commentary -- you are sooooo phony when you do that Louise. You don't have time, Louise. Seriously? What would you say. -- that one always gets me. LOL -- I write a blog every morning. I comment on other bloggers blogs every day. I don't have anything to say? -- yeah. Like really... :) I have lots to say and share and learn and grow from what I read and write.

And in that knowing I see the Victim's Voice disguising herself as Victor. She was lurking, the sneaky little devil, between the commas and the periods. Between the 'hey, I'm doing my best' and 'it's my blog I'll write it how I please' assertions.

Gotta love the Victim's Voice. She's got a lot to teach me!

I breathe and move with ease and grace into gratitude.

It is truly a Pleasantly Disturbed Thursday masquarading as nothing other than, my beautiful morning. My best day yet. My one and only life lived in the rapture and wonder of now.

Gotta love it!