The Un-becoming

She used to love to write, in her younger days, when her spirit was free and her schedule open. A sacred notebook held all her stories, poems and lyrics to songs she was yet to compose. They held her creations about life, love and anything she felt moved by.

She used to love photography. Capturing unposed moments and telling a story with just one frame in time. How black and white prints seemed to beautifully narrate the unspoken emotions and energies of their subjects. How the peaceful process of old school developing felt like the best meditation. A dark room, her pictures and stillness. She could spend hours getting lost in the magic of images slowly appearing and watching her art coming to life. 

She used to love to sing and stroke the keys of a piano. She loved how a combination of notes could move her, open her soul and let the beautiful rainbow of emotions fall out, like joy, heartbreak and gratitude. 

Her bedroom reflected all her passions, with walls covered in all that inspired her. She took on the world with freedom and an open heart, excited by the endless possibilities it offered.

But as the years rolled by, society’s standards and self doubt set in. The ‘what if’s’ turned from enthusiastic wonder to thoughts of uncertainty and failure. Her passions discouraged as just hobbies. They lacked what was needed to build a future. A ‘solid’ steady income and favourable characteristics potential employers, banks and her culture could measure.

Items and their acquisition became the new aspiration, the new more comparable form of expression. As creating, exploring and composing fell down the list.

Then came the little people and ‘busy’ went up a notch. The call to come back to herself became harder to hear among all the noise. But their naturally beautiful way of being started to show her back to living in the moment. Their pursuit of their desires moved forward without fear and self limitations. She watched as they were drawn to their own interests, their own passions, uninhibited by anyone or anything. There were no voices telling them they can’t, they’re not enough or they need to be better.

She tried to channel that way of thinking and come back to the free spirited girl she once was. But it was harder this time. The negative voices she’d been carrying around were loud and their sabotaging powers strong. But her inner spirit called to her, whispering ‘just try’.  With every song and image that moved her and each beautiful combination of words she read, the voice became louder. So she did, she tried. But this time just for herself.

She dropped all her preconceived notions of how she should sound, what she should write and who she should be. She threw away her feelings of fear, of unworthiness and inadequacy. Of comparison and inexperience as she stepped into uncertainty. 

As she reconnected with her spirit goosebumps covered her skin and her heart filled with overwhelming joy. She let her fingers trickle along the piano keys, hummed the notes that made her feel alive and wrote the words that spoke to her soul. Without a plan, a future or an agenda. Just for the love of it, the joy of it, the living fully in the moment. Just for herself.

And the universe responded. “There you are my precious one, I’ve been waiting for you.”