What is calling you?

A January letter

Dear Reader,

I hope all is well with you. This morning, when I opened the living room curtains, the sky was a pale pink near the sloping roofs of the neighboring homes and a lovely blue where it was visible between the bare branches of the mulberry tree. I lingered at the window for a little longer, admiring the view wondering if an invisible hand arranges the colors every day. I wonder if an invisible hand arranges the colors every day by turning the world like a giant hourglass. I felt the words like an upwelling, floating up from somewhere deep inside, and I whispered them aloud against the window. There was a sensation in my chest like the pull of a receding wave accompanied by a rising exhilaration. I’ve learned this is my call to go and write. There's no time to walk to the kitchen to cut fruit for my yogurt, scroll on my phone for just a few more minutes, or say I’ll write after my walk or in the evening. The upwelling of words won’t wait for any of that. It doesn’t matter if the words are mediocre. They may not even be the ones I eventually use. I have to write when I can hear the words because they are always receding, always going fainter. And the more I ignore or postpone them, the less often they come calling. Dear Reader, in what area of your life do you hear/feel the call?

A call to go do something may show up as an invitation, but just as often, it can present as dissatisfaction¹. Whatever is calling you (writing, adventure, rest, love, art, work, travel, etc.), I want to share some meditative imagery for the next time you sense/hear it. I have found it immensely helpful and supportive to imagine that when the call arrives, it’s coming from a lush, green forest. As you step forward and search for a path among the tall trees, a vine lowers just above you. At the end of the vine is a bulb providing a circle of warm light. I love to add a gorgeous, giant lampshade around the bulb. With every step you take towards your call, another vine lowers, lighting the step just ahead until you come to a small cottage in the woods. You open the door and go in.

I remind myself of this image every time I hesitate or think of postponing my writing to do something I consider ‘more real life’.

I’d love to hear what the call, and answering it, looks like for you this year.

xo

Priya

1. In his book The hero with a thousand faces, Campbell says calls can start with “blunders”.

“As Freud has shown, blunders are not the merest chance. They are the result of suppressed desires and conflicts. They are ripples on the surface of life, produced by unsuspected springs. And these may be very deep – as deep as the soul itself. The blunder may amount to the opening of a destiny.” - Joseph Campbell, The hero with a thousand faces