Morning Pages: The Emergent Self


It was a typical Monday. I was already angry at time for flowing so quickly. Why must I get up and go to work when all I want to do is write poetry and edit photos? Well I have been in this exact spot more than enough times to push past it. I have a job that I love and I calling that is greater then any one person. What do I really have to be resentful for?

It wasn't until I sat down at work to write my morning pages that I realized what day it was. I waited for the emotions to stir but there was none. Today is September 11th, nearly 20 years since two planes stopped the world from spinning. So so many have perished since. So many shocking things that I no longer find myself interested in "The News". I turn away, not because I fear what I will see but because I fear that my comprehension is too rational, too removed from the physical reality that is emerging when what I really know to be true is that there is a much bigger spiritual wheel spinning below the surface of these things.

We are in the time of Kali, a fierce goddess who liberates souls from karmic hibernation. We witness her in the death and destruction of the ages as her shadows sweeps clear that which no long serves source. Although her ferocity is harsh, her gift is that of transformation.

I find myself struggling to transform. I often feel a rush of creativity that inspires me to leap into action, but then I trip. The second I feel insecure about my motives and intentions, or how these are perceived by others, I collapse. It is like I am a stepping into a boxing ring with myself and whoever dares step in with me is likely going to get a punch to the face.

I carry on but I feel progressively misguided by my own base nature. My desire to stand my ground, my need to be self made, my longing to be accepted, all begin to conspire against me. Yes, I still produce art and it is glorious but I am left feeling less than whole. I am left feeling more alone. When this happens, I retreat within as facing my demons becomes too much. I reach out for comfort, and when it is not where I expect to find it, I retreat further.

Although I am Wild Woman, sticks and stones still hurt me. I am like a pup fresh to the hunt. I am, more than I care to admit, afraid of my own shadow.


Jen Holden