Spiderweb Dreaming

"Never laugh at another’s dreams; those who do not have dreams don’t have much."

There’s a peculiar tingly feeling I get whenever I access my intuitive senses. Or maybe it’s all the coffee; I am not entirely sure.
It’s strange because I’m at this weird crossroads in my life. It’s all about the courage to make decisions. It’s all about opening my eyes to situations, but more than that, opening my eyes to myself. I tend to become so shielded from everyone, not excepting myself.
 

There’s something in me that wants to write, and write, and write for a living. The problem is that I’m not sure what kind of writing.
It is no secret that I have completely stagnated, perhaps by my own inability to "break the bonds". It’s not even true inability, just a sort of trap in my mind, the part that’s ruled exclusively by fear.
 

I think a huge key to all of this is re-accessing my emotions. Even now I think about my teenage years, how deeply I felt everything. For a time I thought the ability to feel things like that was a skill best left to my youth. But now I’m thinking that I just shut the valve off for the sake of protection. My writings of the past are infinitely more beautiful; but then here I go romanticizing things.

I did a few tarot readings; I won’t lie. It gave me a ton of insight. That basically I’m blockading myself from my true path by going on little diversions, living in fear, shutting down my emotions, and just skating by in life. I’m not living passionately nor fully; I’m half here, half-awake, and unhappy. You’d think the unhappiness would tip me off — after all, isn’t unhappiness a sign that something needs to be altered? — but it hasn’t really, no, not until this second.

I doubt my own abilities and skills a lot. Not even just my communication skills. I just am a giant ball of paranoia and self-esteem issues and it really isn’t working for me, it’s working against me. I need to break out, break away.

I am a fan of lessons and perhaps that is a key I need to use. I have the resources available (apparently), I just need to utilize them. And I will do my best. Because a life without writing, without being published, to me, is an empty life. It would mean I failed my purpose, failed myself. And then I would pass to the netherworld in a fit of apoplexy. I cannot do that to myself.

Perhaps I fear the obstacles. Being published in any way — be that journalism, novel writing, poem writing, etc — is a difficult journey that is a lot of misery and criticism and definitely does not include instant gratification. It is indeed a daunting road. But my fear always holds me back, from everything, and damnit, I’m tired of it. A life goal is to learn patience, and another is apparently to have courage.

Actually, I’ve been considering a courage tattoo. I lack it and it’s obvious.

Perhaps that was the purpose of this convoluted year. To point out that, yes, I do have more strength than I realize. I CAN adapt to situations when necessary. I have more skills than I think, and actually, I have more initiative than most. I cannot do everything, but I can do something.

And the first step is always the hardest. I feel like I need to meditate on this or something. Inaction is no longer suiting me.

I’ve lit a few ocean scented candles and I’m listening to my piano-dubstep-whatever the fuck playlist — A Thousand Years actually isn’t that, but it made my heart fall into my feet, so I downloaded it anyway.

Everyone is a story. I still think poetically even. I am observational. I squander all of these things.

Do I have the courage to embark on this path? Perhaps not. But I cannot continue stagnating, waiting for every aspect of the unknown to show itself. It won’t ever do so. And it would defeat the purpose of faith, of self-belief.

Awareness is always the precursor. 95% of what i write will be crap. But maybe that 5% will make all the difference.

One step closer.

Amanda.