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You Are Not Alone

You Are Not Alone

In this time of spring when nature is showing us how to shed the old and produce anew, I’ve decided to stop writing blog articles, newsletters, and making routine social media posts…at least for now.

The Messiness of Transformation

This transformation feels messy. I’ll disappoint readers like you…though maybe you’ll find new sources that push you to soar. I might stop learning new things since there’s no pressure to publicly share…yet perhaps I’ll discover more with this found time. Spark Productivity will likely begin to drift down the page when people search online for productivity coachingtime management training, and email management seminars…however possibly word-of-mouth is a greater source of my business growth than I give it credit.

Waiting for Something to Happen

I’ve been brewing the idea of stopping for a couple of years now. From the very first post I’ve questioned whether or not having a social media presence aligns with my philosophies and those of a productivity company. I’ve been waiting for something to happen to push me to change.

While the uncertainty spirals, today I’m going to make something happen. I’m going to stop writing and see what springs up in its place.

You Are Not Alone

It’s conceivable you’re in a similar position of waiting for something to happen. Maybe you’re waiting for the kids to get out of school to start making it home in time for dinner. Perhaps you’re waiting for a certain project to be over before you embark on cleaning out your email inbox. Or it’s possible you’re like me–waiting for a reason to stop doing something you’ve been doing for years.

Stop Waiting

I’ll leave you with this Leza Lowitz poem, Now I Become Myself: Waiting in hopes it will inspire you into the messiness of your next transformation…

You keep waiting for something to happen,
the thing that lifts you out of yourself,

catapults you into doing all the things you’ve put off
the great things you’re meant to do in your life,

but somehow never quite get to.
You keep waiting for the planets to shift

the new moon to bring news,
the universe to align, something to give.

Meanwhile, the piles of papers, the laundry, the dishes, the job –
it all stacks up while you keep hoping

for some miracle to blast down upon you,
scattering the piles to the winds.

Sometimes you lie in bed, terrified of your life.
Sometimes you laugh at the privilege of waking.

But all the while, life goes on in its messy way.
And then you turn forty. Or fifty. Or sixty…

and some part of you realizes you are not alone
and you find signs of this in the animal kingdom –

when a snake sheds its skin its eyes glaze over,
it slinks under a rock, not wanting to be touched,

and when caterpillar turns to butterfly
if the pupa is brushed, it will die –

and when the bird taps its beak hungrily against the egg
it’s because the thing is too small, too small,

and it needs to break out.
And midlife walks you into that wisdom

that this is what transformation looks like –
the mess of it, the tapping at the walls of your life,

the yearning and writhing and pushing, until one day, one day

you emerge from the wreck
embracing both the immense dawn

and the dusk of the body,
glistening, beautiful

just as you are.

Thanks to Daniel Marquard for the image, to Lara Devine for pointing me to Leza's poem, and especially to you for reading even one word.
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