Finding My True Calling (*hint* it’s a trap) Part 1

Somewhere, among the ruins of my former life, pride, and sense of self I had a tiny little spark of desire. I had moved 1000 miles away from what was once Home and into my sister and her partner’s house in Florida. They had selflessly and graciously offered me a place to stay, food, love, and helped me in any and every way I needed. I remember sitting on the bed in my room feeling empty and dark.

What was I?

I had dragged myself through this last stretch of life like a resurrected corpse crawling their way through the earth, sliding across the soil of a graveyard. (And with about as much dramatic effect.)

But there was that spark. Something. I didn’t know what it was, but I felt it. I tried to chase after it a bit. I journaled. I figured if everything was over anyway, I might as well do something worthwhile with myself. There was nothing left to fear.

I would say maybe that spark was the idea of passion. The idea of doing something because it stirred something a-u-t-h-e-n-t-i-c within me. This was the beginning of my journey to lead a passion driven life. Most notably, a passion driven work-life. I was going to be one of those people who found their purpose and and soared onto its wings into a warm, welcoming (applauding) world.

And I did find my passion! I found many passions. And yes, there was a warm welcome from the world and scattered applause (at least in my head).

Following my passion was arduous. I often felt as though I was scaling the tallest of mountains, with no peak in sight. My highs were high and my lows gut-wrenching.

I came to resent the warm welcomes and the applause (imaginary as it was). “I’m not happy.” Wasn’t this supposed to be my happy ticket? Wasn’t I supposed to swim around in riches and soar with ease around my newly formed, righteous life?

With every turn I smacked head first into a wall of my own making. My own doubt, my self hatred, angry words of my mother binding around me every time I reached for a fresh piece of fabric to cut or a paint brush to dip into

b-u-r-n-t  s-i-e-n-n-a

or

p-h-t-h-a-l-o  b-l-u-e. 

I was often entombed in fear, standing in the middle of my studio-frozen. I wouldn’t give up. I knew the only way to succeed or to be happy was through this…somehow.

So I fought, I crawled, I grew long talons to rip myself back into reality from my tomb. I stayed with myself for hours on the floor, waiting for the anxiety to subside so I could start working on my projects again. It would get better, it had to.

And it did. Year by year, it was less painful. I could a-c-c-o-m-p-l-i-s-h things. The debilitating shame became bearable, just a sarcastic laugh away.

This was it. I was going to get there. I was going to make something of myself. I was going to make something of these pretty things I surrounded myself with. I had s-k-i-l-l-s now. I had experienced s-u-c-c-e-s-s-e-s.

So there I was, sewing away on my machine. Trying to ignore the void threatening to swallow me up if I stopped and looked its way. “Gosh, I love what I do. This is so fun.” I side eyed the Void, did it believe me? Would it leave me alone? I stopped to change my thread and picked up my fabric again. It had gone black. Black, like the basement in my dreams. Damp, cold, and abandoned. “How did I get down here? Can anyone hear me?”

Black- the sewing machine, my paints, the room, my arms. I was stronger than this. It wasn’t going to take me. I had fought for my passions. I fought for myself. The Black melted away and I sat, exhausted, at my machine.


A friend: “Hey! How’s work going? Making cool stuff?”

Me: “Yeh! It’s going awesome!”

‘I have lots of new ideas I’ve set into motion. I’m excited. I see my trajectory. See it? Over there. That illuminated winding pathway towards…

c-e-r-t-a-i-n

d-e-a-t-h

o-f

h-a-p-p-i-n-e-s-s.’

Awesome.

Published by Readings By Heba

I have over 12 years of experience doing intuitive readings. I've done extensive research into metaphysics, the occult, and faith based religions. I regularly practice meditation and kirtan (devotional yoga). I acknowledge that our lives are made of the seen and the unseen and that Truth is a moving target. I can say only a few things with great conviction after all I have lived. One, life ebbs and flows and it is always up to you to come back into your light. Use every resource you can! Two, the source of all things is light and freedom. You are free to believe whatever you choose to believe, only you can convince or disprove your own ideas. Three, we are dynamic, enigmatic beings. Though society would like us to stay in certain boxes, the truth is we can't. I am so much more than a reader. I live my life with robust joy and great curiosity. Four, I have always been in touch with something that is beyond our conventional ideas of life. I always felt something beyond my five senses. There is a part of me that relishes in diving into the depths of existence. Into those lighter layers of perception. I like feeling where the flow of life is moving. And I truly enjoy doing it with others. Lastly, I am a lover at the core of my being. I love devotional practice. I love adoring the world and everything in it. I seek to shine my light wherever I go. Of course we experience hard times, I just make the absolute most out of all the other times.

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