Permission. To take time. To dedicate that time to oneself, to one’s dream(s). To do.
This seems like such a simple thing. Yet it is quite profound. Giving ourselves permission.
I give myself permission to play, to experiment, to listen . . . to my characters, to myself. I give myself permission to see what happens next.
Some days I just give myself permission to do nothing at all, at least nothing that seems or feels productive in the sense of creating new poems or chapters, or work for my day job. Ironically, however, those are some of the most productive days as they give us back essential parts of ourselves–energy, equanimity, strength, hope.
My good friend Terry and I experienced a week full of bliss recently during West of the Moon from the beautiful birth of his grandson to heartfelt moments of joy shared with our retreaters to a number of moments when those retreaters gave themselves permission . . . to play . . . to just be who they are . . . to create without preconceptions . . . without judgment . . . but mostly to listen (to their souls, their hearts, the deep down parts of themselves).