Do the Thing
Well, it's February. In Ohio that means cold temperatures, snow, and a whole lot of gray skies. Not gonna lie, it feels kind of depressing to me sometimes, and I can really allow myself to get into a funk if I don't keep myself in check. However . . .
. . . I know that the season of winter serves a greater purpose, so I work to embrace it.
February sure is something, though. It's now that I really start to feel done with the gloomy parts of winter. I get a little bit antsy. I feel ready to take all my introspection and creative cultivation and turn it into something new and fresh.
Interestingly, the start of February marks the midway point between winter and spring. I feel that, for sure. I feel like a dormant crocus that's just about to burst forth from the snowy ground!
But before I get all poetic about bursting forth, I'd like to share a little about how safe I can feel, nestled down below the ground.
Somewhere in my journey, I developed this way of living where I often felt - and sometimes still feel - afraid.
Afraid of all the unknowns. Afraid of being seen for the imperfect person I am and the intense and emotional person that I can be. Afraid of being seen as all the mistakes I've made in my past, and all my future f#ck-ups. And sometimes afraid of being seen at all. I would create all sorts of "what if" stories in my head.
Weird, right?
Especially because, if you've ever met me, I probably seem pretty outgoing on the surface. But, I'm guessing all of us have our quirky little quirks nestled safely underground, hidden away beneath the snowy snow, right? Maybe it's because we think it's easier that way - until it's not. At some point it becomes unbearable to stay buried, to stay in the dark. Is this how the crocus feels at the first hints of spring?
I patiently stay in my stillness for the winter season, though, because I know there's so much goodness that comes from the slower pace of the colder months. I know this time of year is necessary, and I know this time of introspection really does serve me well.
This year, I'm learning that what I choose to let my mind dwell on, or not dwell on, can make or break a bleak winter day. I'm learning that I actually have more control over my thoughts than I ever thought possible.
Who'd a thunk it?
Better late than never! By that, I mean the whole getting a grasp on how our mind effects how we show up for ourselves, for our most beloveds, and for our purpose.
Dear old friend, Winter, reminds me how even the so-called "bad things", or things we don't understand now (or maybe will never understand) all serve some sort of purpose in the grand scheme of things.
And as I learn to trust in myself more than ever, I'm starting to realize that my most important job is to simply stay committed to living in a way that feels authentic for me, even when nobody else gets it.
I also know there's still time to bloom, to do all the things I feel called to do, the things that light me up, the things that make me feel alive. Because nobody else can do it the way I do it.
And, guess what? Nobody else can do it the way you do it! So do the thing!!! Even when nobody else gets it. There's still time!
