I've spent the last few decades of my life proverbially standing in a position of striving. In many ways that stance was probably responsible for my accomplishments and actualization.
When I was running from grief, I was under the impression that achievement meant I had "turned out okay." It did not.
When I was rumbling with my illness I used striving as a form of healthy denial, then a goal to meet in order to provide the appearance of "wellness," and eventually as a form of goal-setting— achievements and things to strive for? They also mean something to live for. To stay alive for.
I feel this season of striving coming to an end.
I am ushering in a new season of listening and receiving, rather than exclusively executing my will. Instead of a fist, and open palm.
It doesn't mean I have fewer dreams or goals, it merely means I am ready to manifest them with a different energy, filled with so much gratitude and inner peace.
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| Listening... |
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