A Delicate Balance

When embarking on a journey, whatever that journey may be, it is wise to take a set of useful tools/supplies. Without some modicum of preparation, journeys can become ordeals rather than pleasure trips. But deciding what is best taken to make the journey a good one can be most difficult.

For instance, I have begun a journey with a new friend, and just a short distance from the start I already find myself wishing for a muzzle or at least some form of light sedative that would allow me to shut the hell UP.

I've said it before, I'll say it again...when I'm nervous, I chatter. Oh, it's a terrible thing, my mindless prattling, and I am apparently powerless to stop the witless twit that's conducting the cacophony of squawks and blasts issuing forth from my too-stupid-to-shut-UP mouth. I'd say brain, but that part of me doesn't really seem to be engaged during these rambling rants. I'm SO good at talking when I should be silent that sometimes I just sink into a pit of despair. Annie Lennox sang for me as my marriage was ending with "Why?"

But really, all of this just brings me face to face with that most difficult of processes, self-forgiveness. I'm fairly adept at forgiving others (with the exception of my mother, of course, and even with her I've achieved some real strides in terms of forgiveness) their transgressions, perceived or genuine, but forgiving myself is nigh onto impossible.

A man once told me "You think too much" and I took offense, for thinking is at the core of me, but now I believe there might've been a solid grain of truth in that statement. One of my greatest talents is a huge capacity for worry, and what IS worry but thinking too much? I catch myself reciting a mantra in my head, over and over, "Let it go...let it go...let it go." The chant helps. A little. But still I worry, still the self-recriminations go on and on. Did I say too much? Too little? The wrong thing at the wrong time? The right thing at the wrong time? Did I blow it yet again with my verbose delivery?

At times of such self-doubt, I reach for an essential tool in my repertoire; the ability to trust. I trust myself. I trust the patterns of the Cosmos. I trust the Universe to care for me. So if my verbosity or mindless prattle closes a door, I trust that the door wasn't meant to be open in the first place.

There's a Joni Mitchell song that frequently sings within me, speaking my feelings and thoughts better than I am capable of doing. It's called "All I Want," and the first part of it goes like this:

I am on a lonely road and I am traveling
Traveling, traveling, traveling
Looking for something, what can it be
Oh I hate you some, I hate you some
I love you some
Oh I love you when I forget about me
I want to be strong I want to laugh along
I want to belong to the living
Alive, alive, I want to get up and jive
I want to wreck my stockings in some juke box dive
Do you want - do you want - do you want
To dance with me baby
Do you want to take a chance
On maybe finding some sweet romance with me baby
Well, come on...

So here's my question. If intent is at the core of everything we do, does my loving intent override my sharp tongue and blather? Maybe a better question to ask myself during moments of nervous chattering is "what IS your intent?" Wonder what kind of difference I might make in my delivery if I could break through my inner wall of sound with that question? Hmmm...I'll have to give it a try soon.

Thanks for listening. Sometimes it helps a lot just to talk it through with a stranger.