Red Delicious

work in progress under the sun, 8"x8" on wood panel

I'm in the midst of transition, I feel it. For the first time in years February is being good to me, bringing no major blahs but a renewed energy.

My heart and mind are full. Thoughts, dreams, fears and ideas abound. Multiple projects exist in various states of completion. Part of me is afraid of spreading myself too thin yet another part of me refuses to let trepidation get in the way, determined to see where it all leads. Curiosity and action.

I feel an urge to reinvent - or maybe simply realign - myself in preparation for a new chapter, just like I did post-divorce (those who've been there you know what I'm talking about!).

It feels big and good and I'm up for it.

It's all-encompassing. It's red delicious.

On revisiting core beliefs...

"A decision is a conclusion based on everything you believe about yourself."

~ A Course in Miracles

~~~

I stood in a lineup outside my grade two homeroom. I wore my sister's hand-me-down faux leopard fur coat and matching hat. I felt pretty and glam!

Then one of the older boys in the line next to me looked me over with disdain and called me a showoff with my "fur coat"; another threw in that we were rich because we lived in a house made of brick, also with disdain.

Then & there I decided that dressing well and being rich - or the semblance of - meant being scorned. If I wanted to belong I was to lay low and commiserate. I was six years old.

Fast forward to this past Saturday. That's when this memory came up, 33 years later.

~~~

During the past few weeks I've been working through Barbara Stanny's Overcoming Underearning and I've encountered several similar scenes like the one above, all of them forming core beliefs related to money, how much is enough and how it's supposed to be earned (in case you're wondering, it's to be earned through toil and unhappiness).

I find this utterly fascinating. Who knew I was so impressionable?

Thankfully, when it comes to core beliefs it's entirely within our power to change them when they no longer serve us.

So one by one I am. Thirty-three years later. And it feels wonderful.