A Writer Writes

The title of today's blog is taken from a line in the movie, Throw Mama from the Train, and like Billy Crystal's character, I've been stuck on "The night was humid" for weeks now. More truthfully, a lifetime.

What I mean by this is that it has been my habit to work an idea to perfection in my head before I commit it to paper or action, and by extention, I have been guilty of doing the same thing in many areas of my life. If I cannot see the end result or the path to it, I have not been very likely to begin the journey at all. Likewise, if the journey appeared to be one for which I didn't have all the energy right now, I generally turned down another road. 

I recently attended a life-changing women's retreat through my church, Unity Church of Prescott. The theme and title of the weekend was Unwrapping the Gifts of the Universe. Approximately 25 women put their defenses (and eye make up) aside to introspectively search for the gifts they were created with. On the first evening of the retreat, we all chose a small, handmade box from a large basket. Each box contained a gift, a word that revealed a quality or talent that we, perhaps unknowingly, possess. My box contained the word Communication. This was not a shock to me, i.e. help me, I'm talking, and I can't shut up.

Over the weekend, however, I learned some things about communication. While I am quite at home in front of a classroom or an audience, communicating ad nauseum, my internal communication system is perpetually closed for maintenance.  I discovered that I am often sitting on the side of the road or at a crossoroads paralyzed by the ramifications of all possible outcomes. I am a great believer in quantum physics, and terror of infinite outcomes is the ultimate excuse for doing absolutely nothing. 

All the while, I have a gentle but persistant voice inside me that says to just begin. Just start. One foot in front of the other. One word and then the next. Just put one note on the paper, and the next note will follow. I have avoided this still, small voice for a long time. The need to be perfect, to know all possible outcomes, and to agree to all possible outcomes produced enough energy to resist this voice. But a lot has changed over the past few years, and especially the last few months. 

In the last few years, I have changed my perspective on who and what I am. I am not here to do - I am here to be. I have long run out of energy to execute plans for doing. But I am still here, and when I focus on being, I find that I uncover my source of joy. Joy leads to expression because it cannot do otherwise - it creates its own energy and thereby creates, effortlessly.

Joy and forgiveness, I have discovered, are the cures for spiritual paralysis. They are not new thoughts, but I am beginnging to understand them. And it is becoming effortless.