September was a Month
I find myself with a predicament these days.
I want to write. Poems, plays, articles, novels, children’s books. I want to write them all.
I even have time to write.
I just don’t know what to write about. Bits and pieces of ideas will come to me, but nothing that I can picture expanding into content for an entire post or project. Part of me tells me that I shouldn’t even be writing this post if I don’t have anything to say. A different part of me tells me that the only way to wiggle out of this wordless emptiness is to begin sifting through the words to discover what they hold.
To guide my sifting today, I’m going to use the three reflection questions from Emily P. Freeman’s September letter. Yes, I also followed prompts for the post before this one. Yes, it feels dreadfully unoriginal to rely on prompts to get my words rolling. Yes, I’m doing it anyways.
Questions for September
1) Where are you feeling like a beginner?
I’m feeling like a beginner in my role as an educational assistant. Sometime I want to do an entire post about the work that I do (or aspire to do, at least), but currently it still feels a little too tender for that. It’s humbling to be a beginner. It’s humbling to sometimes not have done things that you should have done. It’s humbling to have questions that you can’t quite put into words and humbling to have to search around for the right person to ask those clumsy questions to. It’s humbling to realize that you’ve been carrying questions that you’ve been choosing to avoid rather than enter into. It’s humbling to see what should happen, but not know how to make it happen. It’s humbling to realize that at the other end of all your unknowing is a beautifully complex little human, complete with the toothiest of grins.
Humility seems to be a theme here, doesn’t it?
Beginning something new always sends me spiraling. My new role leans precisely into my insecurities with a knowing pressure, and my identity splinters in a few new directions.
Somehow, with time and experience, things expand into each other, and the spaces are (mostly) filled in again. Eventually, I will even feel the gentle stretch of love and energy for this new role of mine.
I’m not there yet, but I will get there. Past experience tells me that it could take me up to three years to fully embrace this new job. I’m playing the long game here, and right now I’m in the stage of showing up, paying attention, and taking impossibly small steps in the right direction.
(Is anyone else out there as dramatic about starting a job as I am? Or is it just me?)
2) When was a moment of peace in September?
On the last Saturday of September, Ricky and I made the three-hour drive to Arrowhead Provincial Park. It was the loveliest day. My world felt pretty small in September. I spent a lot of time in my own head. I didn’t realize how good it would feel to go away- away from our apartment, away from the paths I usually walk, away from my routines.
3) What’s one thing you are looking forward to in October?
One thing? How can I choose just one thing, when October holds many lovely plans?
Ricky and I are going to Toronto for an overnight stay.
I have an autumn picnic planned with a friend.
We’ll celebrate Thanksgiving.
I plan to visit a new café in my city. (Everyone has already been there except for me!)
I will shamelessly continue to utilize prompts to keep my written words flowing.
There will be more smiles, more laughter, more moments of connection with the children I work with.
I’m excited to repot my Fiddleleaf Fig plant. (I have diagnosed it with root rot, and I’m both afraid and excited to try to help it get better.)
Perhaps there will even be a chance to go kayaking or canoeing for one last time this year? (That might be wishful thinking…)
Yes, October holds the promise of much goodness. It is going to be a month of celebrating small things.
No step forward is too small.
No good thing is too small.
