Every morning before I write, I sit. I light a candle and breath. Breathing helps me clear the channels. I have been sitting for several years now and one of the gifts I have received from this practice is an increased awareness of what is happening with my mind and body.
Today as I was sitting I noticed a a sensation in the pit of my stomach. It was like a fog, a soup of fear and anxiety. My mind was flitting from one thought to another, landing only briefly on an idea before moving on to the next.
My mom had a dog once who would tear around the house, overturning end tables and upending plants. Buffer would knock over small children and old people in her excitement. A knock at the door would send her into a frenzy. Today, I feel a little like Buffer. She had to be tranquilized. Since that's not an option for me, I have to figure out the source of my anxiety.
It's really not very complicated. I have to go to a meeting later where I feel compelled to say things that may make some people uncomfortable or unhappy. I fear that they won't like me. This is one of my biggest obstacles: the need to please. My need for approval sometimes prevents me from being honest.
The creative life demands honesty. My commitment to live a more creative life requires me to conjure up the courage to face my fears and express myself regardless of the consequences...unless I could get my hands on some tranquilizers.
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