As I was writing my post yesterday, I became distracted by a family of turkeys clucking in our back yard and thought I’d take a minute to look at them before I continued with the blog. I meant to hit the “Save Draft” button but hit “Publish” instead. Thus, yesterday’s rough-draft, nameless blog, went out into the world with the title given by WordPress of: New Post 6299. I thought about posting a follow-up blog (explaining that the title didn’t make any sense), but that didn’t feel right either, so I went out for a run.
I was wishing that I’d paid more attention while I was writing, feeling bad about my lack of focus, and thoughts that others would be confused (and it would be my fault). “Not good enough” would have been the chant going through my mind if I had given it a title. I knew I needed to change this if I wanted to feel better, and started thinking about all of the good things in my life, (keeping my mind off the post for a while). Emerson said, “Don’t waste yourself in rejection, nor bark against the bad, but chant the beauty of the good” and these words suddenly popped into my head.
As I ran and talked to myself, I felt a lightness that surprised me. I realized (in a deeper way than ever) that my intention for every blog entry; that my words always be helpful in some way to someone, was still there, beneath the words, even if they didn’t quite make sense. I came home and read Kathye’s comment about the number 6299 being associated with redemption and I knew that even this was not a mistake.
We hold ourselves up to these false standards of excellence sometimes, believing that whatever we’re doing must be perfect (and fearing that it is almost certainly not), logical and easily explained to others, and yet, how could it be? How could I, with my limited conscious mind, ever understand the great interconnected mystery of it all? How do I know that my “mistakes” are not perfect in the scheme of things too?
In the same group of emails waiting for me when I got home, was a poem from my brother.
we have come to our real work,
we have come to our real journey.