Wild and Precious Life, Part 233–Actually, I Lost Count

May 19, 2014 By Kelle

Lainey’s backpack signals the excitement of the close of a school year—projects that have been displayed in the classroom throughout the year are now coming home, calls for any borrowed library books are made urgent and plans for end-of-the-year parties are put together. As in, I should get on that—I’m half the room mom.

You can feel the sense that something good is coming. Like when we were little and it didn’t matter if we ever left our house come summer—the weeks leading up to it, you’d think we were all going to do the most exciting thing ever. Which, at seven, really meant nothing more than garbage bag Slip n’ Slide by day and several rounds of neighborhood Kick the Can by night.

While kids geek out over The Cusp of Summer, I’m likewise energized by The Cusp of—something. Outwardly, I feel it in my uncontrollable urge to weed out things right now—clothes, crap piles, habits, anything that’s not working for me. Must. Make. Space. For. New. Or else New might come sweeping in and pass by, unable to stay because there’s no room for it.

This morning, I took an hour to delete every single e-mail in the inbox I’ve had since college. I’ve come close to doing it so many times before but opted not to, scared I’d delete something I intended to save—someone’s contact info or a sentimental piece from the past. And I feel like hanging on to those things is a theme that’s been lurking in other areas of my life, perhaps keeping me from what’s next. So I deleted the beast today—all the spam, all the stories, all the beautiful quotes I’ve been meaning to sort into folders for later. There is nothing wonderful in that e-mail box that isn’t already a part of me. And the fear of not having something or losing something—an opportunity, a piece of the past, a part of the future, a connection, a feeling, security, safety—is my biggest roadblock in freely moving forward and accepting life’s gifts.

“Dependence on the creator within is really freedom from all other dependencies. Paradoxically, it is also the only route to real intimacy with other human beings. “ –Julia Cameron (The Artist’s Way)

I’ve felt a magnetic force for as long as I can remember towards God and my purpose, along with an incredible freedom to chase the avenues by which I’d fulfill that purpose–an open current of creativity and love, a willingness to make mistakes, a whole-hearted “thank you, I accept this.” I’ve mucked it up a bit, as we will do, and perhaps even done so in feeling so hell-bent on defining that source of purpose. Is it God? Is it the creative self? The Universe? By needing to define and label it and letting the fear of “stuff” (from simply losing an e-mail contact to the more significant “I’m afraid I won’t be enough”) grasp hold of me, I sometimes repel that force, both lazy and rebellious in following its course.

I do know that decluttering closets and e-mail and life opens up that current even more, and so does the simple act of posture. You know how I started my morning today? In a way I haven’t practiced in a long time—I stretched upward, opening my arms to the sky and physically aligning my body with how I aim for it to be mirrored inside—free and open and fearless. I stretched as far up as I could reach until hidden muscles tingled and my capacity for breath seemed to double. How silly I forget how to do this. It comes so naturally.

And so, while desks are being cleaned out at school and bulletin boards are being stripped and readied for what’s next, I join all the kids in excitement—free, wild and childish excitement for whatever it is that’s in store. I’m making space for New—even if it’s as simple as the Slip n’ Slide that will grace our side yard. I will listen and trust the God that breathes inside, let go of defining it and accept the current of creativity and love that is meant just for me. The dots don’t need to connect. It’s abstract art.

And some wild and precious summer moments from past years to further invite the open current: