three hundred words a day (plus a bonus 550). april 2. on practice.

I have a serious confession to make.

Are you ready?

I suck at praying out loud.

I'm sure that's not what you were expecting, but bear with me, we'll get somewhere eventually...

I can pray all day every day just fine silently - long, meaningful, coherent conversations with God where I speak my heart so simply and so eloquently sometimes I surprise myself - but put me in a situation where I have to do that out loud and you would think I had some sort of stammer. Each stilted sentence punctuated with um and uh, I get anxiety right now just thinking about it.

A few years back, I decided that this was a problem and so, in typical momo face your fears head on fashion, I joined a prayer group. A prayer group, mind you, where all that we did the entire hour was... pray… out loud. For each other, and our families, for our struggles and our blessings. Talk about anxiety.

Every week before I went, I would pray that God would help me to be calm and give me the courage to be unafraid to speak to Him (in words and sentences that made any sense at all) out loud. And each week, I would sit in my chair praying even more fervently that I would not be the one that was picked to pray that day. That had to be the longest six months of my life.

In retrospect, I believe I have finally figured out my problem. You see, when I pray out loud, there is always another factor at play and that is that when I pray out loud, I am generally praying for someone else. And while I almost always pray for others when I pray silently - when it’s aloud - I somehow feel as if I open myself and my words and my delivery and my heart up for... judgment. How do I sound? Did I say enough? Did I say the right things?

Crazy, right? I mean think about it - would you ever think to judge anyone who freely offered to pray for you? I know I wouldn't. In fact, I would more likely be all - hey, could you do that a bit more, please, I could really use it right about now?!

I had an epiphany of sorts yesterday.

I have been talking about returning to blogging for ages. I’ve missed it terribly as I always seem to do not only my best thinking, but my best healing right here. I have opened my computer and tried more times in the last year than I can even count. I just cannot for the life of me seem to get past the first few words before frustration sets in and I hang it all up.

Yesterday’s post started that way.

An hour at my keyboard and I had little more than a paragraph to show for it. I typed, I read, I retyped, reread and suddenly, it hit me. 
Blogging for me had become exactly like praying out loud.

In the early days of my blog, my audience was me. I wrote about things I cared about, things that were on my mind, my heart. The tone and cadence of my words effortlessly following the rhythm of the thoughts in my head, writing what was true for me.

But as time went on, and in particular as my life began to unravel a bit and then a lot, I found myself writing much less for me and much more for you. I felt pressure and expectation to be someone, to post something. What did you want to hear? Was I using grandiose enough words? How could I convince you that all was well? Were you going to judge me, criticize me, heaven forbid - feel pity for me?

But try as I might, and trust me, I did try for a while, none of it ever really sounded anything like – me.

When I am being true to myself, my writing is much less impressive… and much more like a conversation over coffee or on the trails, between me and a friend that there is no need to impress. My words are all mine, all me.  Filled with emotion and inflection, laughter and truth, a few a-ha moments, a swear word now and then, and as my sweet little girl likes to say, a shit-ton of filler words.

I have been practicing yoga almost every day recently, and I love that idea – that we are always practicing. I can’t imagine what perfect yoga would look like but it seems about as unlikely for me as winning the powerball, so for now, I'll just continue to practice, two steps forward and a periodic step back.

Yesterday it hit me that maybe it's high time I implemented that same sort of grace into my writing as well.

Allowing my thoughts to take shape here makes me happy - happier than I think I even realized until recently. So, I am going to practice. Practicing praying outloud. Practice getting back to... me. Some days I might just do that arm balance I’ve been working on for what seems like forever, and some days, child’s pose might be all I can muster, but either way, I will be here. And you’re welcome to stop in for a visit whenever you like because I'd really love to see you.

xxo.