Of course, the other thing about faith is it has no sense of time–none at all. What might feel like an eternity to us, is just faith sleeping late, rolling out of bed rubbing its eyes and smiling like, “what? did I miss something? what are you cooking up there? is that breakfast? Umm, I’m hungry.”
And of course– who can resist? That charm. That warmth. Because when you are wrapped in the arms of faith — oh yeah, no better feeling in the world.
Case in point: last weekend, Noel and I kicked around and ended up in the studio (at her prompting) to mess about, play— set intentions. Cynicism has been a sharp terrier on my heels of late, so although I have made a commitment to faith (very teen-aged, I admit with lots of big sighs and eye rollings of ‘sure, whatever’) it’s not to say my calcified heart hasn’t been at the ready to drop like a rock and crush the tender new buds of any new projects. So although I played along with Noel– I fully accepted that nothing would open up for me.
what I made with Noel
But, in the eleven days since we played together, a stream of things have bubbled up into my life– opportunities, a most delightful commission (<–! I know! right?), books with the exact message I needed to hear, phone calls that illuminate my path like a string of burning torches– and best of all, a connection to something within me that I had long since given up ever feeling again.
Sometimes it feels to me that there is SO MUCH HELP all around us and all we have to do is get focused and ASK for what we really want. But there’s a lot of fear in that, too– or, maybe not for you, but for me there is.
To ask for what I want, to identify it is to run the risk of not getting it– to expose myself to failure, disappointment and all those other awful feelings. Better to simply not want, no?
No, I am here to say, no. I understand completely if you need to move cautiously, gently, quietly– nurture any part of you that may feel tender, wounded, unable to bear the piercing sensation of hitting the ground face first. But the alternative is to slowly suffocate– to keep your dreams up in a box somewhere at the back of your closet that you only pull down every once and again to make sure they are still there before you stuff them back up, out of sight.
Find a way– in whatever way works best for you– but find a way to clarify what it is you want most– and tell the universe– even if you are just picking up a shell and whispering your request into its tiny pink curved ear.
Put it out there. Feed your faith.
Even when it rolls out of bed late, disheveled and looking nothing like you thought it would.