Insecure Writer's Support Group, which is making me write a blog post when my tendency the whole month has been to play the ostrich. And happy anniversary, IWSG!!!
Life has been very full this past month. Even though I've been sleeping more than usual, I also feel time going by much more slowly, because the moments I'm awake I'm far more present than I ever was living in Brazil. Some things are hard in the adjustment to a new place, but overall I'm so happy--whenever I just sit and think about how I'm really here, I just feel my heart expanding out in all directions--it's just this marvelous joy at being alive.
Every day, I find myself feeling grateful for something being an insecure writer has taught me: how to deal with being rejected. Because moving to a new place where I know no one, I have to do a lot of reaching out, to create any kind of contacts at all--social, career, whatever. And reaching out necessarily involves a lot of dead ends or doors slammed in my face. But because I've been rejected such an enormous amount over the last few years of writing and trying to publish, I take things much less personally now, and it's easy to let go and stay positive and keep focused on the goals.
I had this dream a couple days ago: I was supposed to paint my face black and join some people in a secret room with iridescent lighting, where we would dance about wildly and our images would be broadcast somewhere, making a revolutionary statement. Then I noticed that everyone else had black painted just around their eyes, making only a half-mask, whereas mine was a full mask except for a spot beside my mouth that I didn't cover. As I was leaving to find the secret room, I told two evil men that I liked them as people and respected them even though I found their views abhorrent. I felt a spark of heart-connection with the evil men and knew it would play out well karmically.
In the bathroom, I saw that my mask had faded and was nearly gone. I tried to redo it just around my eyes, but the black stuff wouldn't stick and only made a faint gray shadow. I went anyway--I jumped down a laundry chute and began to run up an obstacle course that would get me to the secret room. I was frustrated at the obstacles, even though I knew I would eventually get to the room.
Anyway, so it was a dream of masks and letting go of them to be seen...obstacles to reach some high secret place of creativity...saying hello to my shadow. This is my life now and it is good.