I have tendencies to over-introspect sometimes, and what is very common in those soliloquies is that I examine my intentions carefully. It comes with the territory of being a jnana Yogi-wannabe, I suppose. I am very careful about avoiding doing things for purely egotistical reasons. I have been trying to live my life from a less fleeting and changeable place and you would be surprised at how such self-introspection brings a lot of things to clarity, objectivity, compassion, and love. You know, the feel-good, permanent but elusive things in life.
So the question about whether to blog or not to blog was - ego or higher Self?
I resisted the idea because talking about oneself is easily written off in our society as narcissistic. How could a free-for-all massively public journal be any different? I say it's the intention behind the action. Monologues about one's long list of achievements, possessions, and experiences develop a sour flavor to it when the intention is to glorify oneself, to separate oneself from others by basically saying, "I am better than you, or anyone else, for that matter". But if the intention is to acknowledge the fact that life is as puzzling as heck sometimes but that will not stop me from trying to find some (semblance of) answers, and maybe if the answers elude me, just even accept that, isn't that coming from a more honest place devoid of the self-righteousness?
So here I am - again, not reluctantly or regretfully, but not without deliberation and consternation either!
While I am honored that some people find practical wisdom in what I say, I am publishing this without overt intentions of saving humanity from itself, eliminating poverty, cultivating world peace, protecting animal rights, and whatever the latest philanthropic fad is. I am doing this for me, not so much for you. This is merely a chronicle of my personal celebration of life, conversations and musings, travels and experiences, frolics and wanderings - but more importantly, how those things alter me. This is intended to be a creative outlet sharing with whoever has the desire to eavesdrop on those intimate, interpersonal conversations I'm notorious for having with myself. This will be a mosaic of the things life is made of - love, family and friends, places, the beach, stars, music and dancing, shopping, food, romances, heartbreaks, Yoga, dreams, living and dying, the future, jobs, laughter, and what-have-you. And if all this new agey-ness has not turned you off yet, this will be an account of my own pilgrimage back to my soul.
Here's something I noticed in the last week, too. Writing is a creative outlet for me that only makes an appearance when I'm most in tune with myself. Does that make any sense? My creative energy flows when I'm connected to that honest (not necessarily happy) place in me. If something somehow interferes with that, I can have a staring match with my computer screen for hours, days, and not write a single thing. So another selfish reason to write, I'm here to nourish my soul.
Since we will get inevitably intimate and personal anyway, here's the first big first revelation: I don't know how to do cartwheels.
But so what? That doesn't deter me from wanting to do them and attempting to do them (unfortunately, due to societal pressure, I don't always attempt to do them right when I get the urge... cartwheels in the office hallway in a dress might be serious grounds for termination). All of us have bucket list of things we always have wanted to do but put off for one reason or another. This blog is my profession that there exists no other moment than what's here right now, so let's quit being wussies and just dive fearlessly in. When are you going to start living?
Do cartwheels with me. It's not a suggestion nor a command, but perhaps a premonition. If you stick around long enough, the possibilities are limitless.
Namaste,
Trish
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