How do I move from intention to action? Presence, awareness and breath. Without these things, my intention remains where it was created: in my head.
I need to be careful not to turn my intentions into rules. Once they become rules, I resist them. Intentions have an openness that allows for mistakes. It seems like a fine line, though, between intention and rule. Rules imply a necessity, and an external voice telling me what I “should” do. Intentions seem to stem more from an inner desire.
Intentions are useful within the concept of goals. My goal is to be present in the moment, so I may, for an evening, set an intention to do so, to return to my breath when I think of it. I also have the goal of maintaining a healthy body. Within that goal, I don’t set rules, but intend to workout every other day, eat well, and get to sleep at a decent hour. This doesn’t always happen. Maybe intentions are too easy on me, but I can keep assessing and renewing my intentions everyday. Rules seem so set in stone. The actions I decide to take will really depend on how aware I am in the moment, and whether or not I choose to perpetuate my old habits.
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I want to be heard.
My voice shouts out through teal and red and bright yellow. It sings of hearts and layers and texture. It sighs with the touch of my fingers and the caress of my thighs. It speaks through style, inked skin, and silver accessories. It expresses with movement of limbs and flowing torso.
It remains quiet when it’s unsure or insecure, and speaks up when it’s passionate. It sings along in the shower and discusses the inner workings of the heart and mind.
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It’s working hard for me.
When people hug me, most of them tell me they can feel it beating.
I take it for granted.
I appreciate it.
It’s the centre of my feeling body. It’s where the walls begin.
Pump, pump, pump.
Making attempts to pull down the walls.
I stop and sit, breathe and listen, and I am aware.
How often in my day am I really aware? Even now, I question how much is really reaching my awareness. There is so much more, infinitely more, to be aware of, and I am only recognizing a fraction of it.
A fraction of infinity.
But the quantity doesn’t matter. How deep into my awareness can I go?
Can I crawl under the slight tipping of my heart to see what lies beneath? Am I willing to listen to the sound of tears or laughter or rage that is waiting to be heard? Maybe today, or maybe I’m not ready. But I am aware.
I will keep choosing to do the things I say, “Hell, yes!” to, and then I will do them some more.