Today I mailed my manuscript to a publisher that I believe to be the perfect fit for my book.  I toiled over the cover letter, and then wrapped it – swaddled it really – in its packaging.  I want it to be safe. Sending it is both a dive and a flight.  Preparing it took months.  It felt important to say exactly what I want to say; to read it and revise it until the simplicity and fullness of that shone through. I stopped writing anything that felt like selling and wrote only what felt authentic and embodied.  Like these blog posts, where I write and then shake it out and see what remains, what is essential, necessary.

So it’s off, flying to California, diving into the river of manuscripts, all leaving hopeful hands, sailing onto anonymous desks.  Actually, I think that it is important to dive and fly in some way everyday.  Today’s other dive is about love.  Love of that work that I have been nurturing.  Love of myself – or finding a way to feel that better and more reliably.  Because I think that loving will open me to the places where love is harder, where betrayal and abandonment have dried me like a husk, where hopeful rains no longer fall.  Am I being to abstruse?  That’s ok.  In Authentic Movement, the mover moves, and the witness, watching, takes their own journey of feeling and imagination.  Their experiences may be utterly different – connected by the mover’s moving, but perhaps journeying to opposite poles.

So I wonder, when I speak of hard love, or harder loving, what comes to mind?