i let myself begin again.

(practice heart talisman in the shop)

Last week over on Instagram, I paired the above photo with these words:

What does your practice look like today? How are you deeply connecting to the hum of wisdom and love within you? :: This week I've been skipping my morning practice more than I'd like. I'm just letting the day get full from the start. It's been an upside down week. Not all bad. In fact, lots of good. But my rush to get it done, to fix, to figure out has sometimes pushed through the practice. So right here, right now, I let myself begin again. Yes.

This morning, I'm reminding myself of these words, "I let myself begin again."

What do you need to "begin again" today? 

Here's one of the keys to this idea, at least for me: It invites you to set down the shame.

Though my work in the world is to invite others to feel like they are enough just as they are, I'm not immune to trying to carry shame around in my pockets. When it comes to my morning practice, the shame swirls into phrases like, "You're supposed to meditate every day. You know it's good for you. Why can't you even do this one simple thing for five minutes? How can you teach others if you don't do this? Why are you avoiding the one thing that keeps you centered? Oh and you're avoiding your teacher too. Perfect. That's totally the way to go. Fine, just go ahead and go online instead of connecting with what you need." And on and on and on into thoughts I don't even want to type here in this space.

But as Brene Brown says, "Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change."

When I stick to my shame or perhaps let it stick to me, I can't get back to my practice. I can't get back to building that bridge between daily life and the life I long for. I just look at the metaphorical building supplies and go get a piece of cheese and then a Nora Roberts novel or scroll through Facebook.

However, when I greet the shame like, "Oh yes. I know you. Actually I have some really good stuff to get to today," then I get to walk through it to the other side. I can't ignore it because then I'm just stuffing it and it will sit waiting for another day, but I can choose not to let it drive my life.

I can make the choice to begin again. 

Right now, think about one way you can begin again today. Just one. 

Write it down. Or even share it with me here in the comments. Or send me an email. I really want you to know you're not alone over there as you walk this path honey. You. Are. Not. Alone. We'll keep beginning again together.

Big love,

Liz

*****

This is an excerpt from the newsletter I sent out today. If you'd like to join my circle of kindreds and have these kinds of conversations with me on an (almost) weekly basis, sign up right here.