I have been letting things arrived loudly and with great confidence and I gave them a seat at the table not paying close enough attention to ask if they were actually adding to what I was already carrying,
I have been letting the noise into a house by realizing later that it has become the ambient sound of the whole room and you cannot now remember what the quiet sounded like before everything else,
What has been influencing my mood, pace, and sense of possibility this week, without any conscious invitation,
I’ve been letting things in without even considering whether the pressure I feel is a problem with what I’ve been storing inside it, without being careful about my own choices…
I have handed over the quietest parts of my attention in my inner space in forms, I am moved by it and found its way through gaps because I did not know I needed to,
I have handed over the quietest parts of my attention on the quality of what I carry, without my consent, to the drama itself,
If I could see clearly today, what’s the first thing I’d ask to leave my inner space, and what would that leave behind,
I’ve given up my quietest parts of attention, I’m learning that there’s a distinction between allowing something to pass through me and letting it unpack, settle, and start to define itself as a part of who I am…
I’ve lived within limits I didn’t question, I feel most clearly when I encounter someone working at a visibly with their own dreams, that encounter inspires me, but it also produces a particular kind of shame I don’t like examining for long,
I’ve lived within limits I didn’t question, from the discomfort of trying harder and falling short in full view means there is less distance to travel before I can tell myself I have arrived somewhere,
What standard should I set for myself in the room I fear raising it in, if I knew no one with an opinion I value would witness it,
I’ve lived within limits I didn’t question, a daily, quiet serious decision to stop agreeing to the version of what’s possible that was built from my most tired and least courageous hours...
I’ve been choosing what to let into my life, and the honest name for that particular habit of choosing is not discernment but it is the slow and comfortable reduction of a life that was always capable of more,
I’ve been choosing what to let into my life, and some of what I let in has been with me long enough to change shape entirely, quietly becoming something we’re choosing with the clarity I have now instead of the exhaustion I had then,
If I were to decide which things to invite in and which to release from my interior today, is there something I’ve forgotten I can let go of,
I’ve been choosing what to let into my life, and the choosing has been mostly unconscious and mostly governed by what I was already used to, understanding that creation does not only happen in the adding,
Sometimes, releasing what’s been quietly occupying the space where the next true thing was meant to live is the most generative thing I can do…
Letting things in without asking what they do,
Drama unpacking and calling itself part of me,
A ceiling built from my most tired hours,
Gradual narrowing I have been calling maintenance,
What I stop carrying is the real creative work...
