Gift Yourself Your Heart's Desire

"Whenever I get disoriented or not sure of myself, it seems I bring my whole life into question. It becomes very painful...."  Natalie Goldberg

I am a past master at being able to bring my life into question. Fresh off feeling sorry for myself about Christmas, the end of one year and the beginning of the next were subject to minute and depressing analysis and new resolve. Always new resolve. I knew well how to feel sorry for myself and find new ways to try to change my pattern. Mostly, and I want to write this in teeny tiny print, mostly find new ways to get other people to be different.

What changed my disgusting cycle was to learn more about my heart's desire and give myself what it desired. Year around. Once it was a little gnome like figure I called Seymore who reminded me to climb to a virtual mountain top so I could see more. Another time when I felt puny and needy, I bought a small stuffed doll who still sits on a shelf in my office. As I look at her now, I realize she is a cousin to the little ladies I like to draw. It could be easy to acquire a bunch of junk this way, but that didn't happen. I wasn't seduced by stuff. I was seduced by actually hearing my heart ask for what it wanted, what I alone could give it.

At the end of the year we think about how we want the next to be. Skip the resolutions, the good intentions, and think about gifts you would like to give yourself. Big and small. Tangible and intangible. Our hearts usually aren't asking for big ticket items. My heart loves things to look forward to. So far on my list are several trips already planned, but also the gift of taking myself seriously about art, the gift of feeling okay about spreading the word about this blog, the gift of thinking big, bigger. All year I'm on the look out and adding to my list. What would make me feel really good about myself? Today it just could be a gift of pastry from a shop that is much too close to where I work out. 

Baruch ata adonai...my biggest gift of all is my morning conversation with you. Sometimes I'm not sure I'm really talking to you. Sometimes it feels a whole lot like self indulgence, until I get to a point where I'm sure I am hearing you. Like now. You're telling me that's enough. It doesn't help to look too closely, to analyze too much. "Isn't that what you're really talking about here? So just say, Amen." Well OK then. Amen