openscarf

I’ve felt like a writer the last couple weeks. I’ve had about eight articles, a steady stream of assignments for the site, met and talked to a lot of people, wrote and wrote, and have enjoyed it all tremendously.  I think I’m becoming more efficient and faster with organizing notes and getting that first draft written which is the hardest part for me. It’s also saving my sanity. Its ambiguity in action though, is that freelance life? Much of it I like, except for the empty and quiet spaces in-between and not feeling confident there will be more.

 Not being fully employed for so long is wearing me down, not really an earth shattering revelation. I know the feelings are shared by legions right now:  isolation, insecurity, self-doubt and weariness with not spending any money that isn’t vital to survival.

 I read a conversation on FB recently, regarding creativity and creating. Someone wrote that dreams take energy and energy comes from food; no job = no food; no food = no energy; no energy = no dream. So work, eat well and you’ll keep the dream alive. Word.

 When I eat extremely well, a world of hurt recedes; a lot of anxiety and aches and pains dissolve. I’m productive and my head is clear. But, it’s a battle to not cave in, eat or overeat whatever my emotions are whining for. That battle is won or lost in an instant.

 I’m currently in limbo again, that dreaded state. I have things to do, of course. I slept late this morning because I was up late last night finishing an article. Now…yoga, get my car serviced, look for jobs to apply to, clean up, read…that should eat up the day.

3^rd day of unemployment.   

I feel completely different. My energy has been concentrated in my crown chakra, my head, my heart.  Everything was pulled up tight-back, shoulders, chest agitated, head bursting.

I can now feel my denseness, my weight in the chair, my feet planted heavily on the floor, everything pulling down. Grounded. My energy feels slower and deeper; its’ concentrated in my belly and root chakra. I feel my shoulders pulling down and down my back. Bliss. I feel my facial muscles letting go, my forehead, and my jaw.  At night when I begin falling asleep, I feel as if I am the bed, the quilt and myself; the bed is really warm earth, I’m on it and in it, being pulled down, one. Memories, images of people and that place fading. I picture a black grease like substance, running in rivulets down and through my body, out into loamy earth to be filtered and purified. As it leaves, there’s more and more room inside for light; room to expand, to breathe, and to relax. 

I catch myself replaying some situations or imagining others, sometimes, but the images and energy are weak, diluted and really easy to stop.

My time is mine, no schedule. Like an island in paradise.  Time can't be wasted. 

I took care of my administrative stuff.  My budget is clear.  My house is in order. I have this gift of a tiny bit of freedom.  I can read, write and think whenever I want. 

I'm thinking.  I'm hoping I come up with something good.