It feels WAY too far away to actually talk about, let alone celebrate, but still, I’m naming it:
On 10.3.23 my book will be published! Rewriting Eve: Claiming Women’s Sacred Stories As Our Own.
I am relieved beyond words that 20-ish years of writing — and my deliberating and editing and doubting and pitching and starting over and sticking with it and frankly, just sheer endurance — is, at last, making its way into a book that I can hold in my hands . . . as can you.
I can also tell you that it would be just like me to bypass every bit of this, to not note the significance of today’s date, to not let myself revel — even for a moment — in what I’ve accomplished, to not celebrate at all.
My dear friend Tanya Geisler talks about this often:
“[T]he Imposter Complex and its relentless requirement for perfection and certainty tries to keep us from celebrating our accomplishments, because what has been done is ‘not enough.‘”’ Or it could have been done better, faster, or more . . . something.
And so many of us have been conditioned to believe that celebrating our own accomplishments is far too much. Far too audacious.
And who are you to be larger than life, anyways?
Listen, I won’t lie.
Taking up the space the universe has carved out for you is not for the faint of heart. It takes tenacity and resilience and a reverence for ourselves that transcends the wee space around our toes. It takes boundaries and a willingness to rewrite the stories that were originally written to limit you and others like you. It takes support and a clarity of vision and a relentless fidelity to the promises you have made . . . to yourself as much as to others. It takes discernment and care and a trust in your ability to wield power in generative ways, even if you haven’t seen it modeled well before. It takes audacity.”
You can read her whole post here.
She’s right of course.
I feel the heat rise to my cheeks because I know that every bit of this applies to me, that she’d say exactly these words to me (and few choice others), to be sure. I hear the voices within that natter on: “It’s not that big of a deal.” “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” “Almost a year away yet?!? Sheesh! Let it go.”
I don’t like admitting any of this.
But I know it’s needed: my own truth-telling. I also know that when I name my patterns and proclivities — with empathy and large doses of grace — I become more aware, more awake, more myself.
I also know that every bit of this beyond-ironic.
My book speaks EXACTLY to Tanya’s words above and my own: truth-telling, believing I am enough (and not too much), “. . . rewrit[ing] the stories that were originally written to limit you and others like you.” It’s what I have done in 60,000+ words. It’s what I’ve been doing for the last two decades, at least. And every page of it is about what it means to see ourselves as sovereign, glorious, and amazing. It’s a celebration of women, their stories, their wisdom, and their lives: the ancient, sacred ones, yours, and mine.
And still, I struggle to celebrate myself! *sigh*
So today I’m making an effort. I’m giving focused attention to unravelling the messages within. I’m trying to do just the opposite of what I’m predisposed toward. I’m choosing to celebrate this “small” thing in preparation for what’s coming in another 330-some days.
In the same blog post linked above, Tanya quotes Caroline McHugh:
“[There] are individuals who managed to figure out the unique gift that the universe gave them when they incarnated, and they put that in the service of their goals…
And when we see these people, we invariably call them larger than life. Life is large, but most of us don’t take up nearly the space the universe intended for us. We take up this wee space ‘round our toes, which is why when you see somebody in the full flow of their humanity, it’s remarkable. They’re at least a foot bigger in every direction than normal human beings, and they shine, they gleam, they glow. It’s like they swallowed the moon.”
This is the ache and the invitation, isn’t it? Not just for me, but you as well.
We are loath to take up more space, to shine, to gleam, to glow. We WANT it to be true about us AND we struggle. Both at the same time.
This? Being a woman who has figured out the unique gift the universe has given them? Putting it in service of your goals? Looking like someone who has swallowed the moon? It’s what I want for you, more than nearly all else. It’s what you deserve.
And yes, me too.
May it be so.