Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. - Marianne Williamson
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At lunch time, on the last day of our trip to San Luis Obispo, California (for the California Photo Festival) - Brad burst into our hotel room, "Quick, Kel! Get your shoes!" He dashed to the frig, grabbed a box of berries, some provolone, and Boar's Head ham. He snatched up plastic forks and a wad of napkins and shoved the 'picnic' into his gear bag. Next, he combed through his camera case for additional lenses, mumbling something about location and weather conditions. Hypnotized, I watched. He stopped, looked at me, "Hurry, Kel! The light is good now - but it's unpredictable, and fog could drift in anytime. Let's go!"
I set my laptop aside, and stood. Inside, 'brakes' engaged and irritated question marks taunted, but I stretched tall, (Okay, I'm moving). Brad picked up my backpack, handed it to me; then my shoes, my sweater, a scarf. I acknowledged a touch of irritation, but tried not dipping my toe in it. Instead I bathed in the exclamation points that stick-danced all around him, hoping his exhilaration would glue me back together. When I am suddenly or unexpectedly interrupted, I feel as if I shatter into fragments. I don't think I've ever mentioned this to Brad, or even thought it 'out loud' myself. But it is so. I am a thousand shapes, a puzzle wrenched apart, scrambling, grasping and struggling to regroup. This was that. But a sharp edge piggy-backed on it, an additional color - no, a shadow of dread - and it hovered dark in the midst of me.
Resistance. I named it, and it stepped forward, clear as day. (Why are you here?) I forgot Brad for a moment, thrilled I was awake enough to greet this new bit of awareness. Not always the case - but yoga and meditation had deeply stirred my pot of late, and thankfully refreshed my long held 'go-to' recipe for life. Now, life evolved with every moment. New flavors, textures, dimensions, capacities. I never knew what I'd find and that seemed the perfect recipe. At every chance, I eliminated unnecessary ingredients, simplified. I threw away stale and expired things - old beliefs and concepts, tiresome rules and opinions - all kinds of 'keepsakes'. Especially the ones that never belonged to me in the first place. (Resistance, though? Why now?)
