This Blank Page

I sit in front of this blank page, not knowing what will flow onto it. It’s not always like this. Usually an idea forms before I get to my desk. But today, in order for something to come, I must be available. Something wants to manifest through me. But I do not know what it is.

So, I’ve learned to become quiet, to still the incessant chattering in my mind. To still the automatic, excessive energy of my movements. To connect with peace and thanksgiving in the feeling part of myself. All this, to open.

I wish to open myself to what wants to come not knowing what that is. My monkey mind, my thoughtless movements, my inability to be sensitive to my feelings, keep me apart from myself. From what is Real in me, from what is possible for me, from what I am here to do in this fleeting moment of time.

Over the years, this work on myself has become part of my life. I have come to recognize that it is fed by the work of others and with others. Once in a great while, I become aware I am feeding something bigger than myself, bigger than all of us. Still, I do not know what this is, and I do not need to know. The taste is what I need to know, so I can recognize it and strengthen my wish to come back to the banquet.

This Blank Page

Each week, I come back to this blank blog page. It’s teaching me that I need to prepare myself to sit here. That if I am quiet and open and balanced inside, words come. But I must be ready in myself.

My life is like this blank piece of paper. All kinds of things have been written on it, a whole story. But in this later part of my life, it feels as if I must sit in front of a new page. To open, and listen for what wants to be heard. My sense is that this comes from someplace deep inside and is unique to me—only I can convey this message. Yet that deep place within is connected to a deep place without. The one echoes the other.

Connecting the two isn’t something I “do”— it happens when I get out of the way. My work, my practice, teaches me how to get this busy self “out of the way.” When that happens, there’s room for words to transmit meaning.

Trusting this — the page fills and becomes manifest.

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