Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Blessed are the Weird OR The Trials and Tribulations of Being You


"Blessed are the weird people:
poets, misfits, writers, mystics, painters, troubadours: for they teach us to see the world through different eyes."     ~Jacob Nordby












I had a conversation with a friend today as I worked on balancing her energy with essential oils and touch. The energy work I do takes about thirty minutes and it was plenty of time for us to get to a core issue in both our lives: being our authentic selves.  She brought it up and I was amazed.  I mean, I'd just posted a couple days ago about getting myself out of my self-imposed cage and BLAM! As usual, the universe conspired.  (BTW, I asked her if she'd happened to read my blog the other day and she did not, so there. :-p )

I shouldn't be so surprised, though.  If I've learned anything over the past twenty years, its that the Universe does indeed conspire.  It throws us into circumstances we need to be in.  It brings us to people we need to talk to.  It practically buries us in exactly what we need most AND we have the audacity to complain about it.  Let's be honest.  When was the last time you welcomed the chaos required to shake you up enough to crack the walls?

And that's what needs to happen if you want to embrace and be the real you.  Walls have to crack.  Cages must be rattled.  And its one hell of a wake up call when it happens.  It feels bad, scary, uncomfortable. It makes us mad, afraid, insecure, and dare I say, vulnerable. *shivers*

But the cracks are how the light gets in, my friend.  And we need that light to grow.  Yes, we do.  And we need our cages rattled on a regular basis.  Being stuck inside the persona we've crafted eventually starts to feel wrong, but it also is what we're used to. So, we're loathe to shed the ill-fitting skin.  So cracks, baby.  Shake ups.  Earthquakes.  Quiet conversations with friends in the yurt.  We need them if we really, really mean to be ourselves.

When we feel like who we truly are doesn't fit the norm, we need something extra to stir us to take action.  And when do we take action?

When we don't like what's fucking going on, damn it.  We have to be so uncomfortable, so unhappy, so miserable we are willing to get up off our asses and do the work required.  There's no other way, I'm afraid.

So misfits, go forth and don't fit.
Poets, tear your heart out and splat it down.
Mystics, explore extraordinary experiences and states of mind.
Painters, fling some paint and see where it sticks.
Writers, bleed on that page...or laptop.
Troubadours, you French medieval lyric poets, you, compose and sing in Provencal on the theme of courtly love.

Namaste, bitches.





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