Dare boldly

A blog by Louise Gallagher


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Fear is the Opportunity to Awaken

Front Cover

I am practising the art of “begin again“.

For years, I dutiflly wrote my ‘morning pages’, the art of writing it out every morning as proscribed by Julia Cameron in “The Artist’s Way”.

For years more, I let it go.

I loved writing my morning pages, but… but… but…. Blogging. Busyness. Basically telling myself I didn’t need to, kept me off the habit of my morning pages.

Unscripted time welcomed me back. Particularly as I don’t have a deadline in the mornings in which to get it all completed. I only have… time in its endless flow.

I have begun again.

This morning, as I sat and wrote, I invited my mind to stop ‘forming thoughts’ and to simply let whatever thoughts were swimming about in my head become visible on the page. The words formed and I smiled as I saw the theme emerge: Believe.

Yesterday, as I sat in my studio and created simply for the sake of creating, a booklet created itself. Its theme:  Believe.

Everything is connected to everything.

For much of my life I feared ‘dreaming’. Feared planning my own life built on my own dreams because… well there are a whole lot of deep psychological roadblocks that formed as little speedbumps when I was a child and kept getting built bigger and bigger as I encountered life’s challenges and disappointments.

Needless to say, countless hours of therapy, breath work, group work, writing it out, talking it out and self-actualizing it out have diminished the roadblocks. Now they’re simply speedbumps that are easy to navigate as long as I consciously drive with my intention to live fearlessly in this moment gripped firmly in my hands, heart, mind, body and spirit.

The 9-to-5 was perfect for someone afraid of dreaming. It gave me a destination. A plan. A purpose. It gave me structure.

Set free, I met my fear opening up in my morning pages. At its root, my fear of dreaming.

And I smile.

Fear is the opportunity to awaken.

My fear lives in my mind. I am in control of what I feed my mind. Healthy, empowering thoughts, or garbage.

My choice.

I’m choosing morning pages, bright sunlight and a steady diet of clarifying my dreams so that I can create the structure that will support their fruition.

It’s an exciting journey. I can feel it in my bones, my blood, my body.

And I smile again. I’m obviously into the 3 B’s this morning.  (Yup! I do amuse myself!)

I’ve put the book I made on the desk beside my computer. It is my reminder to believe. In me. Life. Possibility. And in that belief, to follow my dreams, my heart, my desire to create. My desire to make a difference in this world by inspiring others to connect with their creative core and express themselves freely.

I don’t know what the outcome will look like, and that’s okay. For now, I am allowing what is percolating to bubble up and become expressed, however it chooses to be expressed.

In that expression, I am creating clarity. With clarity, purpose follows. And in that inspiring space, my dreams will follow and I will follow my dreams.

Namaste.

 

 

 


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The river moves slowly in the cold of winter

The river moves slowly in the cold of winter. It slides, its surface an undulating steel grey mass of water gliding as one graceful body moving ever onward towards a distant ocean.

The ocean feels further away in the winter. Like a forgotten spring damned up behind blocks of ice freezing all memory of silken sands and seagulls diving into the waves. There is no memory of warmer days in winter’s icy grip. Only the slow silent moving of the days as the river glides slowly past.

The river is flowing slowly. Trapped between its ice lined shores growing wider and thicker with each passing day, silently it moves up into the confines of a narrow channel of ice that has gathered beneath the bridge, between the shore and the bridge abutment. It pushes feebly against the ice, thoughts of far-away freedom growing further and further away. It lays there now in the cold of winter. It lays in a silent ice-encased body, waiting for spring’s arrival.

The river moves slowly in the cold of winter like pain coursing through our bodies in moments of despair, grief, fear, anger.

In their midst, we feel like time has stopped moving. Like everything has slowed down as we sit in a darkened tunnel of pain pushing back tumultuous emotions we cannot name, nor speak, nor label for fear, they will become our forever reality and spring will not return one day.

And then, time passes. And spring returns. And with its return the ice slowly melts and the river flows freely to the sea once again.

I have known moments of excruciating pain in my life. Moments where I believed now was forever and feared it was true. Moments where all I could hear was the roaring in my head, the roaring that sounded like I was buried deep in a bed of ice, too frozen, too frightened, too fearful to move.

And then spring came and with it, the ice melted and I remembered to breathe into its promise of sunshine and brighter days ahead.

The river moves slowly in the cold of winter. It is beautiful as it glides past my window, glistening beneath in its molten sheet of grey edged in white.

There is beauty in the cold of winter. Untold stories of skaters whizzing across frozen ponds and skiers swooping down snow-laden mountainsides, their cheeks rosy and their spirits light.

There is beauty in the cold of winter. It begins within my heart melting in gratitude for this day, no matter how cold or frosty the air I breathe.

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I am working with The Artist’s Way creativity cards.

Each day, I pull a card and must free-fall write whatever appears from the inspiration of the card.

Today’s card was:  The Air We Breathe — Creativity is oxygen for our souls.