34 days to let go and create.
Just 34 days until the launch of my new site. I hope you'll join us that evening for my free launch party of the new online home for 37days. It will include a short webinar called "Your dream has a heartbeat–listen to it," lots of freebies and prizes and fun, a tour of my new office and new blog, and a celebration of dreams.
For the countdown to that party on January 5, 2012, I'm asking readers to answer these two questions:
What do I want/need to let go of as I end this year?
What do I want to create in the new year?
You can join in and submit your answers here. I'll choose a few every day to post here on 37days.
Let go of fear. Create a place of being.
-Cheryl Bakke Martin
Let go of…Fear and self doubt…which leads to procrastination, anxiety and circles – as in, "going in circles." Underneath all this is letting go of the notion that I'm not doing enough…to contribute…to be anything more than another starving artist. Seriously?…paralyzing. Enough, already!
What I want to create? Meaningful and inspiring work in the world, and to do this I must focus only on the beautiful, inspiring work, take time to get grounded, quiet, and plug in to the creative source within, and trust that it will all work out all right. It's a place of being rather than doing, and it doesn't feel anything like fear…at all. It feels peaceful and joyous – you know, the kind of joy that wells tears up in your eyes because something is just…SO…right.
I want to create my life story.
What do I want to let go of?
I want to let go of everything that keeps my heart from being open and happy. The weight of lies, regret, guilt, responsibility, obligation, and expectations is unbearable some days. I want to let it all go. I want to write all my burdens down on a piece of paper, tie a balloon to it, and just let it fly away. In grammar school we used to let balloons go to see whose would travel the farthest. It’s okay if mine doesn’t go far. The simple act of releasing it all would be enough; I hope.
What do I want to create?
My life story. Not my mom’s story, or my friends’ or the story of the man I love, but mine. I don’t know when I became so pleasing. My story has a pink Christmas tree. It includes watching the sunrise every morning and not always washing my hair. It takes steps forward even when it wants to go back. It has tears instead of forced smiles. It has extra servings of spaghetti and tea in fancy cups. It has more hand written notes. And it has more of me.
