Cherishing the moments we have

I’ve never been good at cherishing the moment or being “in the now.”

I’m an Enneagram Four, so I’m pretty much always wanting more and nothing is ever quite good enough.

From time to time, I find my way out of that obsession and into a much more present place with what’s available to me. Interestingly, writing early has made a huge difference in my ability to be more present and to cherish the moments I have. It’s as if showing up and doing my true work is allowing my brain to quiet down and just be. It’s so nice.

The veil between life and death

The greatest experiences in my life that have brought me the closest in to truly cherishing and experiencing life always involve deeply real things that seem to be closer to the veil between life and death. For instance, when my ex-boyfriend lay in a hospital bed on the verge of death, it was pretty clear to me what mattered and what didn’t. (A city plan? Uh, no.)

Similarly, years ago when our kitty C. J. approached the end of her life and spent two weeks insisting on being carried and held by me continuously, I found myself focusing very intently on my time with her and enjoying it profoundly — the sweet, pure energy of her attachment to me was deeply compelling. She died at home in my arms, and it was a beautiful, deep experience I’ll never forget.

I found myself in a similar situation again recently. Our lovely kitty Maddie has a tumor and we will be saying good-bye to her soon. Every night she sleeps cuddled up with us, and I feel so sad knowing we’ll have to say goodbye soon. It is also so precious to know, feel, and celebrate our connection so consciously for a time. I’ve found myself just wanting to sit on the couch and hold her all day.

A reminder to be present

These kinds of experiences remind me to be more present — with my family in particular. I’m far from perfect at it, but I find myself focusing on enjoying my time with my son and my husband at a deeper level. All that work can wait for another day.

The power of darkness

Empaths are also considered “hospice workers,” the one who can go into the darkness of life (things like death and divorce) and hold a non-verbal space for transformation and healing. A client recently asked about that — why would we want to go into the darkness?

 And I said, “What if there was something beautiful about that darkness?”

Tonight, on the Solstice, the longest night of the year, I’ll be lighting candles with my family, celebrating the wisdom I gain from the darkness.

Happy Solstice and Happy Holidays,

 Jenna

My ego died a little more today

A while ago I wrote a post about facing the dark creative void, which was received with slightly mixed reviews.

A few people noted (or responded privately) that for them creativity is about light and love and joyful expansion, not darkness, not ever. Many other people connected with what I was talked about.

I certainly can and do connect with the beauty of creativity at the high points along the creative path.

But there are also days when venturing into creativity feels like a terrifying journey through a dark forest laden with the most horrifying monsters I can image.

It’s no wonder why scrubbing the toilet can suddenly seem alarmingly important.

As I’ve been working on my current script I’ve been aware of a background conversation that runs something like this:

  • What if it’s too dark?
  • What if no one likes it and it’s too depressing?
  • What will people think of me as a mother if I write this? (It’s a sci fi story about a mother.)
  • What if they hate it?
  • What if the ending is too bleak and horrible?
  • What if it is too powerful emotionally and people judge me for it?

And today I noticed that all these questions  have to do with my ego.

It’s my ego that cares what other people think.

But my spirit doesn’t.

My spirit says, This is a powerful, painful question you’ve been given to explore and to answer  for this character. So don’t shy away from it, don’t hold back. This is a gift you’ve been given and you are giving, the power to explore this darkness. Don’t be afraid.

My ego died a little more today so that my story might live.

Jenna Avery
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