I have been noticing how often I feel scared and how often I think or say the words: “I’m so scared!”
I’m quite adept at running the mental movies: woman pushing shopping cart. Woman trying to keep her laptop dry in the rain. Woman trying to find wifi… Woman sleeping under the bushes in the Cambridge Common… Woman dying old and alone with nary a person who loves her in sight… Scared yet? No shit!
But the other day, while
doing my Heidi-version-of-running running, I began wondering about what the part of me that’s scared most longs for, most wants, most believes is missing. And that’s when things started getting interesting. (You know, enter curiosity!)
Little Tangent: I’ve been doing A Month of Living Curiously and have loved it: I lurve writing letters to people I love. And my subscribers? Adore them.
But this month I very much need to focus on biggifying my massage therapy, self-employed IttyBiz. I need to make massage a more solid stream of income, one I can consistently depend on to provide me with a solid base. Because, I don’t know about you but it’s freaking hard to keep the creative juices flowing when “one” (who, me?) is worried about rent and food. After all people, we’re talking Maslow’s lowest rung on the pyramid here! And as much as I was loving writing missives to my subscribers, it wasn’t fully and literally sustaining me.
But that made me sad. Because I can’t not write! And I want to write. And I love staying connected. So, I’ve decided I’d just do it more lo-key, less formal. (And here ends the Little Tanget) So:
I took Scared’s hand and we kept doing our laps. And there, in the middle of Danehy Park, it came to us—Scared and me—that Scared doesn’t really have to be so scary.
Hmmmmm! Interesting about that. And that’s when my April blog series was born: Taking the S out of Scared!
And, want to know something really cool? April is Earth Month! That’s right! All about recycling and reusing. So, rather than throwing a letter away, we are going to reuse it.
Besides, even if it weren’t Earth Month, doesn’t the thought of throwing a super sexy scrumptious letter like S away just break your heart? (If it doesn’t, do not even tell me). And, besides-besides: it also happens that April is National Poetry Month, and, um, hel-lo! what sort of a disrespectful dipshit would throw away a letter during Poetry Month? Not I. Oh no, not I.
So, good all around. Everyone is happy. Scared gets to get taken care of. No letter will be left behind. And Heidi gets to write.
Stay tuned for my musings on reusing the S.
And, my IttyBiz? Why, I’d love you to come see me for a massage