Frustration

The air around me feels like its made of rubber today.  I’m pushing my will into it and all I’m doing is stretching the wall (probably what a feisty sperm feels like, when progress is hampered by latex…poor little mite).  My hands are tracing a line, up and down, to the corners, right into the edges and I feel like I am unable to penetrate it, though it is only millimeters thick. 

Usually, I tend to hold to the paradigm that everything in life is down to timing; when a thing is right it appears with ease and you should just generally get on with the everyday stuff whilst you are waiting for ‘it’ to happen.  But Jesus, today my arms ache from the tension I’ve wrought from my fractious longing and impatience. I feel totally ‘up in my head’.  When do you know when you are trying to hard?  When to let go and let God?

See, I want to be a writer.  I am a writer..as in, I write. I do, therefore I am, right.  Deep in a box somewhere is a Diploma of Creative Writing, my University Degree is currently ‘resting’, like a hot, panting husky dog.  To be more exact, I want to be published.  Have Author, stamped on the pages of my passport (American passport…oh, yes, another goal that prods me incessantly) Have a writing career.  I’ve been writing this blog since October 2010 (not very long I know) and also totting up posts on my food blog.  I’m enjoying this..lifestyle..walking, writing, adventuring, connecting with the world around me.  The past so far behind me  now that I no longer feel the decimating fear that I’ll ever go back to life pre millenium.

Today, as the skies are doing a very good impression of winter in England, I feel like I’m at a loss with the whole writing thing.  The blogs feel like I’m trying too hard. It’s not ski through snow, `slip down a pole, fly through the air type of ease….well, the WRITING, is but the GOAL is fogged.  In Idyllwild, everyone, I’ve spoken to has a ‘story’, so much so I’ve even considered spending a year here, writing about the residents and their serendipitous journeys up The Hill.  Alfred was my latest meeting.  Mid-way around the village perimeter, my steps closing the gap between me and him as I took my afternoon walk.  He happened to comment on my frenetic pace, as I took to undercut him on the inside path.  We silently sniffed each other out and, I guess we mutually decided we’d stop to chat.  I asked him his story.  He told it.  Shorthand.  It was, of course, no less than staggeringly magical.  The Universe ‘conspired’, to help the pieces slide, slip, jerk and land into place.  His transition from Los Angeles was tidal, his shore was a creek-side cabin, overlooking a flower meadow and the prominent craggy rock that Lords it over the town.  He spoke of his ‘dreams’.  That stuff that drips into your mind with the regularity of a tap/faucet with a worn out washer and can sometimes drive you half insane.  That is, if you don’t remember to trust that all is as it should be.  His ‘carrot’, the motivating passion was/is music.  

Talking with Alfred caused me to look back over my journey to the point where my life dramatically changed.  I recalled the people who were instrumental in knocking me sideways off the track I was on and onto the road which I now coast.  Junk yard to ROAD TRIP. I swallowed up books, listened keenly to audio tapes and drew, wrote and visualised the life I WANTED.  Six people took the imaginary detonator in their hands and, from a distance, plunged the bar to the box and BLEW AWAY years of solid rock.  Lil’me was inside.  Wide eyed with excitement and breathless with wonder.  I’ve thanked those people (especially C.Ponder whose books radically opened me up to a new way of thinking and helped me to discover alchemy), who took the time and courage to put pen, or slam key, to foolscap and pass on their wisdom.  Ancient wisdom written in scripture, sung in drafty pulpits and played out all around us in nature, but told in a way that fired me up, burned through beliefs that just didn’t buzz for me.  Words that now cling to fridges, lay down in music tracks, and hem motivational photography, hung on office walls.

I pay homage to them now.  Ten years ago, I shared this secret only with a trusted few.  Now, I tell anyone who will listen.  I can only be me and ‘every day in every way’, I’m becoming more me than I could have ever wished for a few years ago.    Take a bow;

Catherine Ponder –  I read both the Dynamic Laws of Healing & Prosperity  http://www.prosperitynetwork.com/catherine_ponder.html  

Florence Shinn – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Florence_Scovel_Shinn

 Wallace Wattles  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wallace_Wattles

Randy Gage, a tad hard edged but he did the trick.

Charles Filmore http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Fillmore_(Unity_Church)

and hours and hours of Oprah on TV  www.oprah.com 

These were the catalyst for me.  I was desperate to stop the destructive path I was on and to start finding the truth, for me.   Since then life has been an adventure.  Not always easy, sometimes a painful personal struggle but the more I learn about myself the more I can relate to others.  AMAZING magical events occur often, as I’ve built a life that works for me.  I know wonder whether I should make THAT the focus of my writing for the future?  Sharing the awesome brilliance God has graced me with.

I write the last lines of this post sitting in bed.  My feet kept warm by a hot water bottle.  This evening was spent in the company of a group of people I met on The Hill.  The event was a spiritual gym.  People gathering to support each other.  I went just because I adore the host Cathy.  It seemed we all has similar issues and our main goal in life was to be FREE to be happy and be ourselves.  I discovered, with their wisdom and support, that my desperation to become a PUBLISHED and successful author was really more about me maintaining and advancing the lifestyle I have, which is really rather wonderful.

UPDATE

My focus lost the blur again today.  The sky held a consistent blue.  I did what I do.  I’m cooking again.  Chrissy, or Princess as I have crowned her, due to her, newly acquired, jaw dropping palace on the hill, designated a cupboard in the kitchen for me to fill to my hearts (stomach’s) content.  I’m happily gathering condiments to create with.  I walked…lots.  This amuses the villagers.  ‘You’re popping up everywhere’, one said with a smile.  I pushed my vegan blog forward…a little more.  Slow progress is still progress.  And I have come a long way!

I end the day with TV time.  Food Network my channel of choice and Cupcake Wars is on!  Maybe ALL wars should be settled this way.

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About indialeigh

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4 Responses to Frustration

  1. Princess Chrissy says:

    My high was the very last line about cup cake wars. It’s an absolute honor to be part of your adventure!

  2. Charles Antony says:

    I love the sperm reference and will try to interview some, to see just how feisty they can be. Of course, that is, if I ever should meet any whilst living my hectic lifestyle.
    I also love your ending here India-Leigh, and yes, I have changed the subject, and am no longer talking spermy journeys, but referring to your blog. I guess that this is life! Starting with sperm and ending in cake!
    With Love
    Phil O. Sopher

    • indialeigh says:

      Master Antony aka Phil O. Sopher, please accept my gracious thanks for taking time from jousting and belly dancing to read AND comment on my post. Also for your splendid and much sought after answer for all life. With a bow and a wave…I depart to go eat cake x

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