I am awesome at procrastination. Actually, if they ever gave out awards I may be the frontrunner, but I would be so busy putting off getting a dress for the awards ceremony I would never in fact get to celebrate in that great night. Later on, someone would call me and tell me they have my procrastination award at their house, but I would never get around to picking it up. So, I would never really be awarded as the greatest procrastinator to ever exist.
Ever.
I'm actually not lazy. It may appear that way if you don't know me, I mean really know me. But I'm not. My biggest problem is a fear of completing something poorly. I hate half-assed finished projects. Apparently I'm totally fine with full-assed uncompleted projects, but that's a story for another day (because I don't have the time to tell it properly... thereby making it a half assed story - you see my problem?)
Anyhoo... the point of this long winded confession is a wonderful first hand experience I had this morning of someone living their dharma.
I am reading a book titled The Great Work of Your Life and it's fantastic. It is about how to follow your dharma.
What is dharma you ask? It's not just that fun character from the tv show Dharma and Greg.
It's that little thing that makes you uniquely you. The thing that brings out your passion and makes you share that passion with the world. The thing that you can only access if you are truly and completely authentically yourself.
Sounds easy enough right?
Would be much easier if we didn't spend a lifetime with other people telling us what they think our dharma should be. Or that our dharma isn't good enough. How can the thing that makes you uniquely you, the thing you were put on the planet to share and let shine not be good enough? How could that be wrong?
This morning we were doing our daily morning rush. Get up, get dressed, get breakfasts and lunches ready. Feed children. Make sure lunches and homework gets in backpacks. Sign forms that magically appear from nowhere. Yell at dog who is going crazy hoping it's bus time and she can go for a walk. In the middle of this chaos, Jenna sits down at the table where her watercolour paint still sits from the night before. She looks at her paints and her paper and smiles and says "I need to paint, I love to paint, I MUST PAINT." And sits down, grabs her brush and starts painting furiously. It does not matter that I was shoving her breakfast in her face about to bark at her that she needed to be getting ready for school. She needed to paint. And she did. And it brought great joy to my morning. We had time plus some to get all our things done. Yet we also had time to stop and let Jenna paint. Because it was something she must do. Something that makes Jenna Jenna. Uniquely her.
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