Who Am I? Why Am I Here?

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Who am I and why am I here?

 

I was listening to a video this afternoon.  I’ve been listening to a lot of videos, a lot of podcasts, a lot of … stuff…today…anything to block out Clifford the Big Red Dog on the television that my youngest is using for his own backdrop today.

 

We cut the cord, so everything we watch is through an online source.  My only complaint–because I absolutely love having cut the cord completely–is that I used to use the television programming to tell time.  Oh, Arthur is on?  It’s…whatever time. (Don’t know what cutting the cord is?  Here’s a non-affiliated article.)

 

None of that has to do with anything…so…on we go…

 

As I was listening to this video … I heard a something along the lines of … you have to tell people, tell them who you are and why you are here…and that reverberated through my busy brain and was absorbed…where it kept popping back up, and popping back up…the video ended and another started…and it kept whispering in the back of my mind…so I opened a word document and typed it out really quickly.  What was I doing?  Painting.

 

Once I finished painting, I came back to the computer.  I hadn’t written any blog posts for today, none for this week at all.  I had originally intended to write this particular post later on, and to schedule it to post next week or whenever…but as I sat there, watching yet another video for no real reason other than it was there…it struck me that today is Litha…it is the Summer Solstice…it is the Full Moon…what better day to declare hey, this is me, here I am…and here’s why…

 

So.  Hey there.  This is me.  Here I am.

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Who am I?  Well, first of all I am a person who truly despises boxes–those boxes that once you are put in them other people are so loathe to release you from…although there are some that I do cherish.  I am a mother.  I am a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a grand-daughter, a niece…yada yada yada…there.  I am an artist, a writer, a poet, a priest, a teacher, a knitter…and yada yada yada.

 

I am a work in progress.  I am a spiritual being in a physical body.  I am learning and growing and flowing.  I am in flux.

 

I am also a highly sensitive person.  I am an introvert.  And I bore easily.  Also I do not suffer bores easily.

 

Is that enough?

 

I am here.  This is my blog.  I write–or don’t write–as I see fit.  I post art.  I post recipes.  I may post stories, articles, poetry, nefariously odd bits and pieces and whatever.  I sell things I create.  I tell about my kids who make things and want to sell things.  I tell about my mom who does the same…or more, I tell about the things she makes.  We all have a website together.

 

What is my purpose?

As a teacher, as a priest, as a healer, as a human being, my purpose is to help you help yourself.

 

What does that mean?  It means different things to and for different people.

 

When I first stepped out in the world, in, what? 2009?  2010?  I thought I had to make my work as accessible to everyone as possible…even though I knew, I knew, that that watered down my work…it watered down my focus…it watered down who I was then and who I wanted to be.  It frustrated me, but at the time I thought the best thing I could do was to be all things to all people…even though I knew it was a fallacy.  I kept that up for two years?  Maybe three years?  It’s one reason why I pulled all my old work, except for the prompt courses, which I actually am planning to redo in a different format … at some point.  The change-up is on my to do list…but right now, it is not a priority.

 

I had my youngest…and trying to find that footing and that space to do my work…and to find out who I am again after all the hardships and the sickness and the issues that have cropped up in the past years…and that isn’t easy.   However, I have had a great deal of time to do nothing but sit and think…I would prefer to do something, but I take what I can get right now.  I let go of that whole thing about making my work accessible to everyone, because, frankly, I don’t want to work with absolutely everyone…I want to work with the people who get what I do and why and who want to work on themselves without needing/wanting someone to do the work for them.

So, I stopped writing for everyone.  I started to write for myself.  I stopped trying to teach everyone about a broad spectrum of things about one subject–and I began to focus on that one subject, one facet of that subject at a time.  I explore topics as they speak to me, as I need to explore them for my own edification…I learn and I teach what I learn…I learn more, and then I teach more.  I will contradict something I have taught before only when I learn something else or something more that speaks to such a change.

 

I wrote a novel in 2010 along with NaNoWriMo…I won.  And the novel has been sitting here for size years, waiting for me.  I pull it out periodically, look at it, make some notes, and then set it aside.

 

Well, I have pulled it out this week…and I have read through a lot of it–and the one thing that strikes me is good gravy, my friends love me.  More than half of the book is justifying why I am writing the book.  There IS a lot of good information in this book…but it is cloaked under so much detritus.  I can see that two people in particular –one of whom I felt pressured to “make feel good” about me and my stuff…and one that I felt was so vile and despicable that I needed to point out how vulgar and insipid she is…and yes, I still feel that way about that particular person.

 

I already know I tend to defend absolutely everything I say.  I am so used to be treated like shit, like I am stupid, like I have no clue about anything, like a girl, like a pretty little girl who needs to sit there and shut up and let the men do the talking, that everything I do comes across as me justifying every little everything I am, I do and I say…I know that about myself…and sometimes it comes in handy, but mostly it just bothers me about myself.  I will never be free from many of the, ahem, jerks in my life, because I am related to so many of them in one way or another…but … I no longer feel compelled to create my life around their views, their opinions and their…ignorance and stupidity.  I am not responsible for anyone else other than my own self.  I am not responsible for my children’s feelings or making them feel a certain way any more than I am responsible for my partner and his feelings or making him feel a certain way.  We are each responsible for our own stuff, every one of us.  It is not my job to make you happy.  It is not my job to make you feel good.  It is not my job to make you feel comfortable.

 

I will step away from that particular soap box for a bit.

There is so much good in that novel that is so bad…and I do mean to pull it apart and dig out all the nuggets I want to take and expand upon.  I have cut quite a bit from it already just by removing stuff that I came up with just to make sure I made my word count every day…by the end of this process, there should be double the amount of words than I started with, if not more.  Plus, there will be photos and videos and if I can get it right, audios…which was the point of the whole exercise with that novel in the first place.

 

The whole point is that the novel is a jumping-off place for a huge comprehensive self-exploration program…a discovery of self…and that particular vision has never left me…even as I have worked that angle from multiple sides without touching what lies within the pages of that novel.

 

So.  This is me.  This is what I am about.  Right here.  Right now.  Come back tomorrow.  You never know.  I may wake up in the morning with a completely different mindset and alternative ideas for that book and the courses meant to be created because of it.

 

Thanks for sticking around this long to listen.

 

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