by Chaya Grossberg
Don’t give up, don’t give up on your dreams.
I’m tired. I spent the day clearing out my storage unit, loading boxes into and out of my car and my friends truck with the help of 3 great friends. I’d accumulated quite a bit of stuff in 2 years in Portland after moving from the Bay Area with only one carload and my mattress tied to the roof with rope.
The thing about living a writers life is you need to be flexible because you never know when words will whisper themselves to you and you’ll need to write them down, pronto. You cultivate your ear as you practice listening to these loud words that only you can hear. If you didn’t write them down or say them, you’d be labeled schizophrenic, no question.
It’s just like dreams-if you didn’t have them and follow them with your whole being you’d have absolutely nothing to live for and you’d contemplate suicide or down a bottle of Tylenol right now because it’s the closest thing and you wouldn’t even have time or desire to find a more likely method. And because dreams don’t die anyways.
I just thought of one of my clients and nearly lost it-nearly started to bawl-because he doesn’t have a lot of money, yet he felt drawn to work with me for my year long coaching program. I’m amazed at his faith and my own faith to offer myself as I am, which I had before I knew who these magical clients would be. I almost cried because I, like all of us, go in and out of that core strength space-that state of being where I’m hearing whispers and everything is 100% aligned.
Listen to Tom Clute here.
I’m not there all the time and as someone who’s mostly there in a quiet room with a pen and notebook, I’m not always witnessed live there.
When I first started to get into these writing states where I hear whispers I was in college and 19. When these times came on strong it was confusing, baffling and incredibly powerful. I had a few friends who seemed to understand while others wondered if I was psychotic and worried that I spent too much time alone or “in my own world.” I wasn’t in my own world, rather the whole universe was whispering to me and I was focused on listening. It took all my concentration, possessed me. And it was good. Hearing voices is one of the most powerful things that can happen to a human being. I prefer to call them whispers. I hear whispers and I wouldn’t trade these words for anything in the world. They tell me I am living my destiny, they are my destined life. Most writers and poets will know what I mean; what matters is that we listen to whatever calls us.
We are all on the edge of death and of course fearful of that and our Western systems of medicine are based on that fear. Of course while I am in this body I will do my best to take care of it and preserve it, but true medicine walks the life/death line. It always does. True medicine is what lives beyond our bodies and attachments to ourselves. True medicine knows that someone will pick up where I leave off and healing happens in our souls and the Universe as a whole so there is nothing for an individual to fear about their health or state of mind or anything else.
True medicine is the medicine of the future.
Ironically, living is when we bring some of death into our lives and alchemize it so we are no longer so fearful. Then we feel fully embodied. Then we know our bodies alone aren’t breathing, but the whole Universe on both sides of life is breathing through our personal lungs.
So find a way to add a dash of death to your medicine, whatever it may be. You can tell your doctor I recommended it, and yes, this is medical advice.