Four weeks ago – today – I set an intention.

• To create…
• to build…
• to lead a community of like-minded practitioners in cultivating the discipline of habit in creative practice.

That I set this intention – was somewhat un-intentional. When I wrote it down and declared it out loud – I had no real idea of where it would lead.

Ever since – I’ve been riding the wave.

• Of prana.
• Of life force.
• Of excitement.
• Of a singular focused determination.
• Of all that energy that follows a singular intent.

Like so much of life….and its journey.

We show up. We do what we habitually do. Without really knowing what or why or where – we’ve already begun. The seeds of intention have been set. All we needed to do was to slow down…to pay close attention… to listen and to really hear.

And – here I am. I am here.

I’ve bumped up against fear….and all sorts of resistance. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. I’ve named it. And – I’m doing it anyway.

I’ve listened to that

• voice of self-doubt…
• of questioning…
• of uncertainty.

I’ve invited her to come sit with me at my table. I’ve argued and challenged and wrestled with her. And – thus far – I’m winning this war.

I’ve been relentlessly resolute in my unwavering focus.

Doggedly determined.

Unwilling to compromise my direction.

Ever since this very public declaration of intention – I’ve been following the light that is guiding and leading. Although the destination is still somewhat uncertain. The path is clear.

Each and every day – I show up. I take one long slow breath…and then another. I remind myself that the ground is right there to support me…and that the sky above is nothing other than vast endless soft clouds of possibility.

I do one thing that scares me. And each and every day – I’m one step farther along that path than I was yesterday.

Like so much of life…and all of its journeys.

The i’s are not yet all dotted…and the t’s are not all perfectly crossed. I walk the talk. I’m letting go. I’m a true believer in the prize that’s in the process. And – I’m daring to share some of the incomplete imperfection that is my own.

Cross-posted with permission from Marcie Scudder, Photographer