A Gift Only I Can Give

A Gift Only I Can Give

 

Hello My Friends,



As I typed the above, I found myself inwardly sniggering at myself. The contents of this post will no doubt reflect that as of late, I feel like I may in actuality not be writing to friends. Or at least that the friendships may be more lopsided than I would like to believe. But friendship is defined in so many ways, isn't it? We all have our own category dividing lines between strangers, friends, acquaintances, kindred spirits and soul mates. What one person considers a friendship may by another's characterization be a mere acquaintanceship. And so on and so on with many overlapping and conflicting lines and compartments. But here, for this moment of writing, I suppose I will consider friendship to be in the eyes and heart of the beholder and therefore, I do write to friends. Deep digging friends. I mean, who else would take the time to read this other than a deep digging, friendly soul?

And so dear friends, I write to you today about my recent (semi-current?) state of despondency with life in general. And though there are various reasons for this season of existential grief, here and now, I write of the aspect of this blog and the many disappointments it has stirred within me lately.

The few that read will know that I have been writing about the traits that empaths share.

I have a confession to make...

Writing about this bores me.

I began with the intention of writing a separate blog post on each of the ten traits that empaths share as outlined by Judith Orloff: The Top 10 Traits of an Empath. I was quite excited to learn about all these traits and reflect on how I could relate to each of them. Understanding them has helped me better understand so many things about myself.

But writing about each of them quickly began to feel mechanical, tiresome and a little conceited. It certainly doesn't feel creative or artful in any way. Then again, my writing hasn't felt artful in quite some time. But having started this process of writing about these traits, I felt like I created a situation in which I had to finish what I started and so, here I am, just having finished posting about the fourth trait with six remaining to cover.

At the same time of writing these posts that I feel so uninspired by, I have the uneasy feeling that I am writing these posts and then sending them out into the void of emptiness. Sure, I see a view count on the blog site, so I know that some persons are at least clicking the link. But is anyone really reading this stuff? And if not, why am I writing it? Why am I writing unenjoyably and even further, why am I writing at all? Of course, Lovely Christina tells me that she loves my writing and gets a lot of out of it and that I am amazing. I do not minimize the value of her support and encouragement, but she is clearly love biased and the little voice in my head (the one we all have) keeps reminding me that the value of my writing in her eyes is influenced heavily by the ardor she has for me.

It's so easy to get drawn into the "Is anyone listening?" trap and forsake the reliable and lasting joy of "art for art's sake." There is such a delicate balance. Because it does matter if anyone is listening.

It simply does.

If I present what I consider my art out into my world and it falls like a tree in the forest where no one is there to hear the sound, it matters. The problem is not that it matters, but if I allow that to become the focus. Because if it becomes the focus, I stop presenting from an artful, daring, and honest place and begin to present from a safe and cliche place of what I think others will want to read. And when that happens it always leaves me feeling empty. Always.

So, I've decided that I need to get back to doing some of the writing that inspires and feels real to me. I feel much better about writing my thoughts, feelings, and reflections in a stream of conscious fashion much like a journal. Although this inspires me, it can also be a very scary way to write. Opening up and exposing my heart and soul to people, some of whom know me.

What will people think!?!

Will all respect be lost?

Will I be relegated to "that weird guy with all the hang ups" status?

Have I already been relegated?!?

All of these knee jerk fears are quickly followed by me reminding myself how much the world needs people who open up.

People who don't pretend.

People who are willing to show the dirty, unsavory, and weak shadow side of themselves right along with the previously unearthed treasures of their hearts.



From the beginning, this has been a world of people orchestrating the view of themselves that others are allowed to see. And now, we have a whole new social media toolbox available with which to perfect a false presentation of ourselves and our lives and the persona we set forth can so easily take over and become our identity in our own minds.

Thus, we lose our true selves and become some hollow, fanciful version that has little substance.

I don't want to maintain that persona. I don't want to become my seventh taken selfie angle. The one that finally presents what I want people to see me as. I want to be okay with the awkward angle that displays the bags under my eyes and the beaky profile of my nose. I want to feel and see the beauty in my imperfectness, and I hope that others can want the same. I want people to know that I often struggle with life and relationships and that I often make the wrong choices, and both pay the price and learn valuable lessons. It is only in showing my true self that I can feel authentic in life and provide others a person and place to relate to.

All this to say that I will finish the posts on the traits of empaths. But hopefully, I will be able to inject a little more personal reality into those posts, even at the risk of alienating some. I'm fully convinced that by sharing of myself I will connect with others in the way that my soul so deeply needs to. As I finish the empath posts, I give myself permission to write other posts reflecting honestly what I may be feeling on any given day in all it's vulnerable, raw nakedness.

How a song takes my mind to a revelation concept.

How a relationship teaches me a previously unreachable lesson.

How the pain of life drives me to open up to unexpected healing.

And I know it will be scary at times.

But it's where I belong.

Even if it makes me feel so alone and alienated at times, I know I'm not and I know it will mean something to others just to read of another imperfect soul who is clumsily navigating life. I will be inspired just knowing I have shared a real part of myself.

A gift only I can give.



P.S. - as part of my efforts to reconnect with my creative self, I will begin painting photos to accompany my blog posts. I may not always include self-created art with my posts, but my plan is to include this for most of my posts. One of my personal roadblocks to publishing new posts has been the desire to include images that reflect the feelings and/or messages that I am trying to convey in my posts. I usually end up searching for a "free to use" image from the web and am almost always disappointed in what I find. It never quite matches up to what I see in my head. I am very visually sense oriented when communicating and receiving concepts, and it is important to me to include colorful and artful imagery with my posts. I have discovered that a big part of my writing that has been missing is the element of self-art imagery and that this is an essential part of my inspiration and follow-through. For this post, I took a photo that I found and painted my version of it. I call the painting "A Gift Only I Can Give." We each have one of these by the way--- A gift unique to ourselves. Sometimes it's hard to find but it's always there. I pray that each of you find your gift, treasure it and bask in the giving of it.

Until next time, Peace and Love to you my fellow Deep Digging Earth Babies!