The Front Page: December 2016 Newsletter

 

After I reviewed A Life of Being, Having, and Doing Enough for the Good Books page in this issue of the newsletter, I remembered an affirmation I’d written on being enough. When I found it in the December 2002 Newsletter, I decided to reprint it here.

Those Deep-Swimming Longings

Like many of you, my thoughts in late November and December turn to the past year, while anticipating the one to come. I mentally click through the highlights noting what I’ve accomplished, what I haven’t, and what STILL needs to be done. Even while performing this brisk mental ritual, I’m aware of a less accessible process that also calls for my attention. But what is it? How do I go there? And do I dare? Other thoughts swimming within my being wait to be called up and recognized in a deserving, reverent, loving way. Will I notice? Will I take the time? Will I find a way?

There is a quality of sadness surrounding these other thoughts. They seem to come from deep within me, a place I know but easily forget. They seem so pure, so true, so powerful. And although they desire my attention, they do not demand. It’s my choice. I can stop and pay attention to this presence within, or I can busy myself in dozens of things that shout at me with dramatic urgency. Or I can choose to stop.

When I do stop, finally, there is nothing to say. There are no questions to ask or answer. No lists to generate or evaluate. No projects to envision, organize or review. Candles help; they create a soft, gentle darkness where I feel less exposed. I settle in awkwardly, like a friend who has been too long absent. But here I am, and what was this about? Oh yes; you just wanted to be with me, have me sit here and stop all else. I feel estranged, and yet I melt.

The thoughts and images swimming within grow calm, encircling me once they realize what has happened. I’ve heard their whispered calling and I’ve come. It dawns on me they don’t want to talk, scold, praise, or say anything. They just want to be with me again, be one with me. And so I sit alone, in the light of the candles, silent without and within. I stop resisting. I sit with my own true self, absorbing her divine presence and her infinite, caring knowing for who I am and who I am yet becoming. In this moment, I feel the love for me, and from me; it is enough. I am finally enough.

This is a busy time of year and there are things to do. Lots of things! But this is also the season of long nights and candles.

So when you hear the voice of your own inner longings whispering to you, wanting to be with you, give yourself their gift. Stop. Turn down the noise and the bright lights; find a candle. Sit and wait with yourself, for yourself. Then in the quiet that surrounds you, remember this—you are enough. It’s not about what you do or don’t do. It’s about you.

And when you, too soon, return to your everyday activities, let those deep-swimming longings of your own heart lead the way. Keep them close. Listen to their whispered prompting and their wisdom. Trust them like you would your finest, truest self.

I offer you this affirming thought for your New Year:

I am finally willing to believe I am enough.
In all my choices,
I honor the Amazing Creation I have always been.
I dare to live—
guided by my inner wisdom,
true to my own knowing.
I am enough and I always will be.

With gratitude,

Laurie Mattila
©2002

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