I don't wanna!
I have this deep belief that life is supposed to be easy. This belief does not always come with proof; normally I would be okay with that considering that so many of my beliefs are based on what lies beyond the veil, that clairvoyant realm of the unseen, invisible and intangible reality I know of. And which might never be proven. When life proves me wrong, I get a little pissed off. Life? Easy? Of course I can admit I don't always make it that way. Perhaps that would be too easy. Now what fun would that be?!
That meeting? Has actually been cancelled.
Certainly this aspect is of my inner rebel, the same one that apparently presented herself with a professional scowl at two years of age, when I fell down the stairs all on my own accord: I got up to look behind me as if someone had pushed me with full intention. That was the same two year old who finished every meal, but left just enough so that I could repeatedly dump the bowl and its remaining contents onto my head. Surely I was testing my mother's patience, as if it was a mission in life.
I will tell you the only thing that I figure is easy, since life is not actually easy for very many people in truth. I would really like to say that I think that following a dream is easy. However if I were to claim that as a truth, then I would be a total liar. Following a dream is hard, man. Following your dream is the least safe thing you can ever do.
You know what is easy? Safe is easy.
Yup. I just used the word easy a lot of times in a few sentences. Perhaps that will make this blog easier. Wink-wink.
A memory runs through the rivers of my psyche, as if pushing re-play on a tape in my head: "Mamacita, sometimes you make your life so difficult." The Spanish accent of my ex-fiance runs through my mind perfectly, as if it were five minutes ago. Not until this moment right now did I finally process deeply enough to accept that this statement might actually be a fact. I recall my cheeky answer, "No, mi amor. I don't make my life hard. You are just too simple."
What clearly is easy, is to point the finger at someone else rather than take credit or responsibility to process an observation. The way I felt back then is more clear now, I felt trapped with someone who always seemed extraordinarily happy with life. His interpretation was different than mine, his viewpoint being that he had the woman of his dreams, friends that he completely loved, a new home to live in, and a career that paid him to dive everyday. Daily, all this daily fuelled his big passion for life.
Inwardly, I was actually battling a seemingly endless search for my own passions. I refused to conform to anything routine or expected, which was why he loved me, and likely why he figured I made my life difficult.
My dreams? Perhaps they were lofty, maybe even too lofty. Perhaps it is as easy as that. His interpretation of life at the time was obviously quite different from mine; he was a simple guy with a view point of extraordinary happiness stemming from a life lived simply. I have to say I sense a cultural difference here; living in Mexico for over ten years taught me so much about appreciating the simple things in life. Life was simply eating with friends on a beach, while sitting on plastic chairs and tables, even with plastic plates, and the delicious regional dishes were prepared in a kitchen built in the sand out of wooden planks and a charcoal grill. This was the heart of life, and meanwhile I was insisting on modern cupboards with stainless steel appliances and big bright windows. I had a goal to eventually build a home, and to create a fancy lifestyle with a whole lot of travel sprinkled with gentle luxury. I had things I wanted to do. Badly. Like write a book and create a business. I was realistic in what I figured it would take to create that life-style in a typical North American dynamic, tweaked a bit by me by leaving out the tight neighbourhoods of cookie cutter houses, and less constrained conformity. After time, my fiancé learned to enjoy the finer things in life, yet he never seemed to have the drive that I felt I needed in a partner.
Five years later, I sit here trying to remember the balance of those two worlds, so very different in essence. It is not that I did not love the man whom I thought I would marry, I just knew we were not the right match. Although it was very hard, it was clear that something else was calling, like a magnet that I could feel. Some call this "purpose."
I sit here now, overlooking the skyline of a rich and lively city, a few hours fresh out of a writers' workshop in San Francisco. Something in me fights against typing, but I insist on doing it anyway. Being honest with myself, as I observe my toddler frown, I feel like dumping something gooey all over my head, sitting there and just letting someone else clean it up. I have a feeling that would not be a great idea. Instead I dig deep, and ask myself what is it that I am resisting. The truth is, I was expecting to feel more inspired. Instead I feel slightly less motivated then when I landed here a few days ago. However, I am grateful that I came because I know that investing in myself is another step closer to achieving my goal. I want to be a published author. With some difficulty, I breathe life back into a book I started over five years ago, a book that has written itself a few times over. As I peace back together lost work, a whole new story emerges and I reword months of dedicated work; I see clearly that the publishing process is way harder than I want it to be. The reality of the publishing business hits hard, and I see that it does not matter how powerful your message is. Like anything else on this realm, it is how well you market yourself.
I stomp just a little because part of me does not even want to write this book, that part of me called Margegot. And so begins the evil ego demise of my true messenger soul: absolutely hating the fact that this project is going to require more patience than it already has, and thinking that this story is all about her along with the gruelling tragedy that profoundly inspired a bigger message. The bigger message is not mine anyway. I don't own it. That is the only truth I know. What is true, however, is that I am the only one who can deliver it. That calling? It's the magnetized annoyance in my belly that pumps passion into my heart every time I sit down to scribble the essence of my unwounded scribe. The calling that accompanies a feeling I can never release. The sense that tells me loud and clear that this is one of the many missions I have to complete. Writing is what I came here to do.
In the end of the end, the fact is this: what is truly worth it rarely comes easily. The matter of the fact is the actual matter. The substance we call life. The struggle that comes with thinking that what you have to contribute is not important. The inner fight that happens violently in the mind. A very real dichotomy between the intuitive side that somehow knows very deep within that somewhere beyond space and beyond time, and even beyond all words, is a place where everything is actually quite easy. Coming to terms with the inner battle is the realization that some far away place is not what matters right now, because that place is not actually here. Or perhaps that is the purpose? Maybe that place is actually here. The place we are all looking for, the place that requires no followers, no likes and no platform. The place that requires no approval, needs no recognition, no effort, no clothes. A place where we can all be fully naked and open with vulnerability, creating from a place of detached emotion, in unconditional love, wrapped by each other in full acceptance with no face, no masks and no signatures, based on someone else's idea of what is worthy and what is not, or publication based on what the whole is ready to accept.
Conforming to that which is safe never did sit well with me. It never does. Now I have found a passion. Apparently I came to teach about non-conformity. Is that always easy? No. Now that the hard part is defined, and in order to do that (at least on a bigger scale) I am definitely going to have swallow a portion of a pill that may gently require me to conform to what the experts know is actually required. It will be up to me to build a platform and do the hard work that won't necessarily be easy.
Easy, however, is not why I came here.
Yet, with little doubt, I know that this world we are seeking is the one we came here to create. It is a place that is more full of ease.
So I see now, that yes, I do sometimes make my life more difficult, because staying safe is easy. The one thing we all have in common is this: life is actually hard. So if I have learned anything today, it is that I do in fact have a very big niche. It's a niche called a planet, one full of beauty and creation, one we refer to as Earth, one that has editors, publishers and professional artists who are happy to help you make it all a little more easy.
I remember what I tell my clients over and over. Then remind myself of what I know.
No matter what you produce on any scale it is vital and important. Your goal may be to reach many people, but in the end it does not matter how many people you reach. Your contribution for setting two feet on this planet is enough. The fact that you heard a call and showed up, means that you too actually matter. So take it easy on yourself, do what comes easy.
It is not really that hard.
Plan to win!
Evict certain people from your life, detach from drama, be firm in your decisions. Honour your personal and professional deadlines, and take a step everyday closer to your goal. Have fun on the journey by keeping it wildly FUN!
There is no reason to see the light at the end of the tunnel as a path so far away, see it as closer than when you started because you are that light today. Chill. Just the fact that you are here is enough. Remember that a dream is a weave, which turns into a web, unlike in the book Charlotte's Web, this web is not built overnight. The dream requires falling asleep, and then waking up to remember what it is.
You left what was safe to complete what was not. Don't fight what you came here to do. Just do it. Just love.
Hay House Author
Oracle card from Doreen Virtue's mermaid deck