Motivation to Write

Dear Writers,

One day in second grade, my friend Shelly was furious because I repeated a remark she made to the wrong person.

In truth, I did it intentionally because, as a gregarious seven-year-old, I loved me some juicy gossip. The thrill of divulging sensational information was irresistible.

But my taste for sensationalism met its demise on the playground that fateful day. Shelly marched toward me, placed her fists on her hips, looked me in the eye, and said, “Ebony, you’re an instigator!”

The small crowd of wide-eyed second graders surrounding us swiveled their heads toward me, waiting for my response.

I had no idea what the word “instigator” meant.

I asked Shelly, “What’s an instigator?”

“A trouble maker,” she said.

At that moment, I felt a thousand needles of embarrassment stab me at once.

I thought, Me, a trouble maker? That was a title I did not want to be attached to my name. I knew her assessment of my behavior was accurate.

After apologizing, I stepped into a new awareness of words and intentions.

However, I still tend to over-hype fearful narratives running through my head, resulting in me taking action out of fear and making more trouble for myself.

Sometimes, when I catch myself making things more complicated, I picture Shelly in her no-nonsense stance, calling me out, and guiding me back to myself.

Who’s the Shelly in your life who calls you out and brings you into awareness?

Love and Light,
Ebony

Dear Writers,

I recently lamented to a friend that he doesn’t remember anything. Important dates and significant past conversations seem to flee his memory within twenty-four hours.

Upon hearing my complaint, he said half-jokingly, “It’s good not to remember; this is how I stay happy.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed at his silliness. But then I immediately thought, Hmm, is there some truth to that? Are there memories we are better off forgetting because holding them causes us misery?

Yet, a memory is a story we tell about the past. The meaning we attach to the story yields a particular energetic vibration within us. The emotion we feel about the memory emerges from that energy.

This is why two people who share an experience can have different perspectives and reactions. They've each rewritten the experience from their point of view and have given it a different meaning. So, they feel the memory in their bodies quite differently.

After paying attention to the stories and meanings I attach to my painful memories, I've found that they lose their power.

This hasn’t been a quick and easy process for me. It’s taken me years to notice the meanings I had attached to memories.

But it’s worth the time. I like to say, “Yes, I remember. And I am at peace.”

How do you feel memories in your body?

Love and Light,
Ebony