With the supermoon this month, I’ve found that I have a lot of things (old stuff brought out by new triggers) to work through. (Translation: I’ve been alternately weepy and mad at all the endless drops of hats.) It’s been a process of emptying it all into bits of things I can create, but the most effective activity has been writing all the pained stuff out till I’m empty. And finding the voice underneath it all, in the end, who addresses me and talks to me in long long pages of words of encouragement.
I can’t explain how it works yet. It just works.
Strong feelings come to those strong enough to handle them. Strong knowings come to those courageous enough to trust them. Even if there are risks one can be wrong. If there were no risks, there would not be courage. Doing something while certain of the outcome, out of duty without joy, is mindless servitude. These qualities are not what you have come to master.
All heartbreak will pass, as you well know. Use it to feel, to heal, and grow. Use it to break through to bliss. You know it is possible. You know how to find beauty. So find the beauty in this.
You write about these things–what makes you think that they are not real, that they are fiction? [Janet’s note: This was referring to a long online epic I’ve been writing anonymously for years, of characters with telepathy and powers of illusion.] You write because they are true things. You make them possible. You create this. Now live your creation and your choices. They are gifts. The people, the times and places. The experiences, the feelings and knowings, the friends, the encounters, the pangs of the heart.
Think on all whom you love and those who love you. You have all been playing your limited roles and parts so very well. But these roles are not all that you are.