In the Moment

Here's the real truth - I'm in a blogging funk. I just don't feel like writing as much anymore. Partly because the computer is all the way downstairs and Scott's tablet is upstairs and if you've ever compared the two, well, it's like trying to walk a 5 K in somebody else's shoes.

Another part of it is that I have less to say and more to do. Blogging has been a wonderful outlet for a tongue-tied stutterer like myself and I've enjoyed it immensely over the past 4 years. But I noticed something tonight while I was at my daughter's jazz concert. I forgot to take the camera out for most of the concert and was caught up in the moment completely. My toes were tapping, my mouth was smiling, my hands were clapping and my attention was riveted. When I stopped trying to capture the moment in the frame of a camera lens, I captured more than just an image. My memory is sharp and includes emotions along with the mental photographs and sound bytes.

Sometimes when I'm in a moment of bizarro - Nancy World I start writing the blog post in my head before I've even finished living the experience. I realize afterward how much of the actual experience I missed because I was trying to articulate it before I organized it in my own mind to make sense. 

Although I found a lot of blog fodder and purposely allowed situations to play out for blog fodder (which I do not regret, much to my children's chagrin), the reason I began blogging and enjoyed it so much in the first place is that I allowed myself to be real, admit my weaknesses, process my shortcomings and discover that I am not alone. I have admitted many taboo thoughts and found camaraderie. I have discovered and articulated the ironies of my journey of life and found support. 

I love to tell my amusing stories that tickle my funny bone but more than that, I find the essence of myself when I force myself to sit down, reflect on a particular issue and type with my heart. These moments come in quiet, seemingly simple moments yet with such clarity if I am listening. One such moment occurred on Sunday when a speaker quoted a scripture I've heard hundreds of times: Psalms 46:10 - Be still and know that I am God. 

The clap of thunder was twofold. I am never still. I need to be still so I can hear. Of course my life is busy. I have hundreds of excuses for why I can't Be Still but they are only that - excuses. I can make time just like I can make time to exercise (but I don't) or take a shower (and I do) or figure out which smoke alarm keeps beeping and driving me to distraction. Which is really the crux of the matter - distraction. What is merely a distraction and what is truly part of my journey? I am fantastic at providing distractions for myself. As I previously admitted, these are my little coping mechanisms for not dealing with the tough stuff in my real life. I struggle with appropriately prioritizing and sitting still, waiting for direction. Instead I'll go get chickens, take on a part time job at a university, read a book, paint a room, or learn to garden.

What I have learned, however, is that eventually I find myself in between. I feel myself being pulled toward "between." My blogging days are not over but I feel the need to use more of my time being still. Being humble. Being teachable. Being more and doing less. Watching the world around me with more interest of learning, finding patterns specially designed to teach me something. Becoming more of the person I can be if I allowed myself to open up to God's greater plan than my own. My own plan consists mostly of doggy paddling and punting when it gets too hard. I might want to try out this idea of replacing fear with faith.

Just to illustrate my reticence, I have gotten up no less than 8 times in last paragraph to attend to some pressing issue rather than write what I felt I needed to write. On the upside, all the glasses are now in the sink. The tablet is charging. I put my shoes in the closet. I put the dog outside when she didn't want to go. I let her back in. I checked on the boys. Optimistically, I am on the right track. I resisted folding a load of laundry, putting another load in the washer and one in the dryer. I didn't clean the bathtub although my anxiety is jumping out of my skin seeing gray color at the bottom of the tub. Then I backslided and just turned on the warming light in the coop for the chicks. I need to play my Rook card with the chicks. They're still little-ish, you know.

Know that I am not gone. I'm still struggling with the basic needs pointed out by Maslov. I still hunger for the sense of belonging, building relationships while keeping myself safe. I compare myself with others because they have a public persona that exudes confidence and competence and I forget that we're all in this together. I'm still counting you as my friends even if I might be silent on this end on occasion. 

Know that I am actively working on being still and listening.