(me, age 35)
There’s been a creative project that I’ve been resisting. It’s one of those projects that looms large, my brain making up stories about it that loom even larger: You don’t have time. It’s too massive of a project. Why bother.
For years now, the pattern goes like this: It pops up, tugging at my heart for attention, sending all the signs that NOW is the time. And then I promptly resist, wiggling with discomfort, quickly filling my time with all sort of distractions like a temporary muzzle until the project – this thing/dream/idea/annoyance breaks through again with its mighty insistence. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
My possibilitarian spirit is paying attention. She is wondering what this is all about. She is gathering her supports, getting curious, and making small moves. And, if I’m being honest, she is a little deflated by the sneaky old pattern rising up again. It feels like one of those hard and tired conversations that married couples have over and over again throughout the years – the ones that resurrect unhealthy narratives that never get renewed or resolved. Haven’t we healed this yet? Ugh!
Today, I had the intuition to call in a younger version of myself. She’s 35. Full of dreams for the future. Not yet a mom. Not yet a full time artist. Not yet ‘successful’. She is holding a vision for her future and her dreams. She is surrounding herself with community who will help see it through. She is making time. She is suspending all the disbelief she’s been conditioned to hold. She is fearless. She is vulnerable. She follows her calls, one small brave step at a time.
And so, here she is, reaching through the years, mentoring the future version of herself that is a little stuck. A little afraid. A lot uncertain. She sends truth. She sends understanding. She sends the hopeful message that when the Spirit of Possibility is nurtured – despite the hurdles, the limitations, and the density and murkiness that comes with being a human – we move our lives forward in infinite ways. “Your words matter. Your thoughts matter. Your ideas matter,” she says.
And so that is where I’m at. Trusting that an earlier version of myself not only knows the way, but allowing her to lead for a little bit until I recognize the path, until I’m a little more comfortable, until the sun comes up.