A horse without blinders
Just wrapped the morning's first project and am treating myself to a break at Aster as a reward. I love having places, as well as some good work under my belt. Promising start to the week.
Writing here is also a place of sorts, and it's good to be doing so again. The simple practice and routine of it puts me more in line with who I've been and who I want to be. There are more challenges than there were when I began a decade ago-I am regularly reminded that there are no safe spaces outside of my own head (and even that is not so safe, I assure you), but that's part of being "public." It's a challenge worth working through, I think, and hopefully I can grow in charity, grace, and love as I navigate those challenges.
Considering whose counsel could be beneficial to me as I try to be more deliberate about the life I'm building and living. Like when a horse's blinders are removed, I can find myself overwhelmed and skittish, even in endeavors that were simple enough while they were on. I'm the first to extol the virtues of focus in its proper place, but sometimes the blinders come off for other reasons entirely. And then what? What does it mean to be faithful once that happens?
As with the horse, it's a lot to take in-the fundamental nature of the world hasn't changed, but an opened perspective on it brings a host of new fears, hopes, limits, and possibilities. I don't want to miss what's valuable about being where I am; neither do I want to cease to be reliable and useful as a horse because of this new state. I'm in no hurry for the pasture or the glue factory.
Writing here is also a place of sorts, and it's good to be doing so again. The simple practice and routine of it puts me more in line with who I've been and who I want to be. There are more challenges than there were when I began a decade ago-I am regularly reminded that there are no safe spaces outside of my own head (and even that is not so safe, I assure you), but that's part of being "public." It's a challenge worth working through, I think, and hopefully I can grow in charity, grace, and love as I navigate those challenges.
Considering whose counsel could be beneficial to me as I try to be more deliberate about the life I'm building and living. Like when a horse's blinders are removed, I can find myself overwhelmed and skittish, even in endeavors that were simple enough while they were on. I'm the first to extol the virtues of focus in its proper place, but sometimes the blinders come off for other reasons entirely. And then what? What does it mean to be faithful once that happens?
As with the horse, it's a lot to take in-the fundamental nature of the world hasn't changed, but an opened perspective on it brings a host of new fears, hopes, limits, and possibilities. I don't want to miss what's valuable about being where I am; neither do I want to cease to be reliable and useful as a horse because of this new state. I'm in no hurry for the pasture or the glue factory.