On Identity & Claiming Gifts

A few months ago I attended a women’s conference here in New York City. The theme of the conference was hope. On Saturday, we had the opportunity to attend one of about 20 different breakout sessions offered. One title caught my eye. I wanted to go to it, but felt I didn’t really belong there. I was sure the other women attending would see right through me and label me an imposter immediately. As my eyes wandered to other session titles, I let fear drive my feet away from the room where women were gathering for the session I wanted to attend. Then the emcee walked back on the stage and grabbed the microphone.

“I just want to encourage you for a moment. What is the one session you are too scared to attend?” I froze as my eyes darted back to the scary title. “Would you consider going there today? Don’t let fear or embarrassment hold you back from where you should be.” I was certain she was talking directly to me. I gathered up some confidence, and turned around. My heart raced as I walked back in to the session titled “Hope as an Artist”.

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Grand Opening

Writing is hard. Every time I think I have a new idea, I open up my browser and see someone else has already written about it. Sure, they didn’t use my words, but the ideas are similar. Is there really ever anything new to bring to the table? 

I finished my writing workshop at the end of February. I met some really talented women and was encouraged by their bravery and honesty in their words. We shared openly and gave feedback kindly. I didn’t really want it to end. Not only did it provide community, but it also forced me to prioritize writing. I was in a great routine for six weeks. Then the workshop ended and I went right back to making excellent excuses as to why I wasn’t writing. I got sick. We were traveling. People were visiting. You know, life. 

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Weeding & Finishing Journals

I have a problem.  It might not be viewed as a problem for others, but it’s a problem for me.  I’m going to call it “my unfinished journal” problem.  You see, I have an entire box (let’s be honest – several boxes) full of unfinished journals from throughout my life.  For as long as I can remember I’ve kept a journal.  And for as long as I can remember I have never filled all the pages of a journal.  I start out motivated, but if I miss a few days or weeks and then sit down to write again it feels like weeds have grown over and I’m just not a gardener so I let them grow, toss the journal in to a box and start fresh.  This blog is hanging on the brink of becoming yet another unfinished journal. And if I hadn’t told people about it I think I’d find a way to tuck it neatly in to a virtual unfinished journal box and let the weeds take over.

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