I was on the phone with the Missouri Dish not too long ago, and, after the normal pleasantries and catching up, he asked "how are you?"
And then he followed up with the Million Dollar Question:
"Have you been writing?"
And in testament to how much I haven't been writing, the question seemed so out of place with me and with our friendship that it took me a moment to place its relevance.
That's the awesomeness of friends who truly get you. They know what to ask. They know what you should be doing.
And I'm not entirely sure how it is that I keep allowing myself to get so out of touch with myself. Like I work so hard towards building my life into a shape, and then, slowly, here and there, I stop building and tending the shape and the sand of my life slowly resumes it's natural, go-with-the-flow, blobby kind of shape.
I have so often lamented that I don't feel like I have a calling. Like I just do what I do and all the things that fire me up and make me feel passionate are strangely contradictory; facets of a whole I couldn't quite piece together. Two aspects, in particular, seemed almost mutually exclusive.
I had the hardest time with that, because I couldn't see how I could honor both without also being dishonest to both.
And then one night in Savasana, I had a vision of my life. All of the pieces fit together into a seemless, harmonious whole and one of that pair of particularly trying aspects was not even present in the form I'd been expecting. It fit because the truth of what that aspect is to me, why it appeals to me and why it fires my gut, had been stripped out of its guise and laid bare. And it suddenly made so much sense and fit so perfectly.
So now I have a vision of a life that fulfills me and makes me whole. It is so far outside my frame of reference that I'm not even entirely sure how to get there. But I'm working on a plan. It's going to take awhile, and will probably come together in parts. But I can finally see.
And it fits so well.