Permission to Be Ordinary

I was working on something recently that holds a great deal of personal significance for me, and something I therefore wanted to get ‘right’, to really do justice by.

In fact, so dear is it to my heart that I nearly stopped myself before I’d begun.

I was aware of a wave of doubts rising up within me: could I do the project justice, could I find the right form, could I write something interesting enough, or stand-out enough to be read, could I find a way to let the poetry emerge, could I make the right decisions about how to publish and distribute, could I rise to the (self imposed) requirement to shoulder the responsibility this writing project demanded.

But then I thought: well, what if it was just good enough?

What if I could just be allowed to be ordinary for a while?

And then the further thought, insistent:

What would happen if we turned the call to shine and blossom and be stand-out brilliant on its head?

What would happen if we allowed ourselves to write, think and create in an ordinary kind of way?

How many more different voices would we then hear?

How much material would live to see the light of day, not stopped before it was started?

How much more richness would we uncover in all its glorious everyday ordinariness?

Couldn’t we then stand back, relaxed in our human sized form, and watch the collective effort unfold, in all its wonder and glory?