Avoiding the Fire

I have been avoiding writing today.

I'm not sure why because the thought of writing is actually rather exciting. But somehow, tidying up and mowing the lawn have been far more 'important' than sitting down at my computer.

When I find myself avoiding in this way, it usually means I am afraid of something: procrastination is a great defence against actually confronting/ doing/ feeling whatever it is. I know that since I joined Twitter and Facebook last week and made myself more visible, I have felt less inclined to write. The terror of being seen is so great that, even though this blog is anonymous so no-one actually knows who is writing it, I can still feel the fear of being judged, criticized, mocked or put down in some way.

I find it fascinating that my sensitivity about this runs so deep that, despite my anonymity, I am still afraid.

There is only one way to combat this which I have ever known to work. That is, to move through the fear by doing what it is I am afraid of.

Last week I wrote about anger and how I had decided to make anger my friend. It is amazing to me that it has already started to make a difference. I felt very angry over the weekend. After a while the feeling began to fade (as feelings do!) and I realised that I was trying to hold onto it: to stay feeling angry. And the reason for this was because I was not only enjoying feeling angry; I was reveling in it!!

Anger felt delicious to me! Wow! It coursed through my body, filling me with a sense of strength, power  and a mindset of "I can do anything". (I can see how anger could be addictive!) In the mix was also a sense that it could descend into aggression because I could feel in my body something like "Grrrrr.... Get out of my way". However, the enjoyment of this fire was so great that the hint of destruction soon melted and instead I was simply left with that feeling of power. It seems to emanate from my stomach and liver, that power - the centre of my torso (or solar plexus chakra for those of us that way inclined). And also from my diaphragm - as if my body is giving breath to flames of passion that can erupt up and out into expression through my voice and arms.

I know I have kept that fire hidden for most of my life. Sometimes it has even seemed to have gone out for short periods. This past week in making friends with my anger, I have given life to that fire again. I have given myself permission to fan the flames and add more logs to keep it going. It is the fire that made me write today, in spite of the fear - in spite of the uncertainty of what I was running from and therefore what I could write about. It burnt up the fear and used it for fuel in order to find its way out and into the world.

It is my fire which has found its voice right here today.

Love to you,

Lyra ♥