It used to be that improvising at the piano was excruciating, even when I was alone in the room.
My inner critic, ferocious.
A massive cringe-fest!
Now, I meet My Self more often with acceptance and appreciation. I receive My Self the way that I want to be received by others.
If you are a witness to my creative expression, your presence alone causes pressure in my nervous system.
It amplifies my impatience with My Self.
(the inside gang) “Hurry up! Figure it out! What’s taking you so long? Is that all you can come up with? Well, just get on with it, will ya?! That was TRULY pathetic.”
You walk in and THEY all pipe up.
My response. Get me out of here.
I went to hear Ram Dass speak years ago. He came out onto the stage and sat there without saying a word for 15 minutes. Then, he spoke. That’s what I remember from that night. The way he did that. The way he took the space. I was in awe of it.
How do I give myself the time I need to be present and not force myself into faking it?
If I spend my life pleasing you, what good is that?
If I constantly shape myself into a form that is sure to not offend. What good is THAT?
But, I’m afraid that…
- you’ll judge me
- you’ll deem my expression not good enough
- you’ll shrug at what I find beautiful
- what touches me won’t touch you
- I’LL BE REJECTED, MISERABLE, UNLOVED AND UNLOVABLE! A FOOL AND A FAILURE.
Perhaps I am better off not sharing my deepest creative expression with you after all. Why should I trust you anyway with something so precious?
But then, what are we here for?
In an improvisation session last week, the percussionist said; “Go ahead, take your time, come up with something juicy.”
(the inside gang) “Do you really mean that?… Huh…You SEEM to be patient, respectful and kind… Go figure!..OK, then…This will take a minute…I’m waiting for My Self…Waiting for Your Self?
I’m making space for my Self to show up. I can feel it when it does. I feel alive and connected. It’s satisfying, pleasurable…It feels like home.
THANK YOU for letting me take my time.