I was standing in a store, that I frequent, in my quaint little home town.  One of the shop keepers, who has become a friend asked, “why don’t you write blogs anymore?  I really liked what you wrote.”  It had never occurred to me anyone would have even missed my musings.  Furthermore, I couldn’t put my finger on why I’d stopped after all.  She assured me, were I to pick it back up, I would have a faithful reader in her.

Later in the day, I pulled up my web page, hit new post, as I’d promised I would.  Placing my hands on the keyboard, I froze.  Nothing would come.  No idea. No words.  My voice wasn’t simply silent it was trapped.  The following day, I tried again.  Nothing.  By day three, I decided it was time to dig a little deeper into what was going on.  Sitting in my fluffy chair, coffee in hand, I shut my eyes and asked, “what’s going on?”  Like a laser beam, a memory shot back into my thoughts.   I  remembered a heated discussion, and then, the words that had been spoken, like little arrows, pierced me.

 “You really need to lighten up a little.  You’re too serious.  Even some of my fiends read your blog and commented that is was so heavy.  Why does everything have to be so heavy with you?”  

I don’t remember what was said beyond that or even how the conversation ended.  Nothing in me, at the moment the words were spoken paid much attention, but my spirit heard it loud and clear.  Unconscious of the duck tape those words had put across my mouth, I was silenced.  Stopped.  The things I love, words, analysis, process, research, story telling, sharing, learning, growing, WRITING, I simply stopped.  Worst of all, I never even asked myself why?  I guessed I hadn’t stopped long enough to breathe and hear.

A few days later my friend stopped by for tea and biscuits.  She was twirling in my kitchen singing “LET IT GO” from Frozen.  I laughed and said, “I still haven’t seen that movie.”  Appalled she pulled it right up on the apple tv.   I watched the little princess embrace herself, down to the very parts that scared everyone around her.  She stomped, took her hair down, and found love for herself.  I decided to follow suit.   And so, I embraced my inner blogger, writer, analytical self.  I looked my inner story teller in the eyes and said, “I’m listening.  Tell your story, girl.”

I went back to the memory, to the flying arrows, and spoke my truth.  Into the Universe, from the fluffy chair in my living room, I smiled at those fiery darts, pulled each one out of my heart, handed them back to their deliverer and said, “No thanks.  Here’s your opinion.  Not interested in buying tickets to the crazy show.”

Imaging myself as Elsa, I said, “Let the storm rage on! The cold never bothered me anyway…”  I am here to tell you this, everyone has an opinion, a judgement, an idea about what you should and shouldn’t do, say, be.  The world will tell you how to dress, what to believe, what’s beautiful and what’s ugly.  At the end of the day, no matter what’s happened along the way YOU STILL HAVE A CHOICE.   You can shut down or carry on.  You can play small until you are small.  Or you can be brave and take the road less traveled, go where there is no path, make waves, live out loud.

This life is your one chance to be you!  Be it.  You’re more beautiful than you will ever know.

 

—sending you love wherever you are in the world.

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