For the past 13 years, I've been doing something I'm no longer sure I enjoy. Actually, I dread it.
I used to love being a journalist. I even fancied myself as a writer. Writers depend on editors, all do. Good writers have good editors. At heart, I'm a communicator. Like most enthusiastic communicators I like writing, but conveying news is something professionals get trained for. After well over a decade of traveling the world, speaking with the brightest shakers and movers, I dread writing another story, interviewing another person, shooting another video, and God forbid, doing a podcast.
I've received the boot last week. It was embarrassing, humiliating, ego-bruising and crushing. But why didn't I pay more attention to this creeping feeling? It was only getting worse. Finally, a high-quality magazine asked me to write. The dream writing job. Good pay, illustrious, no comments, the dream. But I fear. I fret at night. Will I fail again? Where's the passion anyway?
Trinity Esoteric asks today: "...is this time serving the purpose of showing you how out of balance your life has become? Do you give and receive love?" It follows up with: "Are your connections based in the heart or out of obligation or habit?" Yikes, mine aren't, at least, not most of the professional ones.
It continues with: "Do you trust and have faith?" No, not really anymore. If I quiet enough, I hear the inner Master.
"Do you really walk your talk?" Not sure I do... anymore.
"Do you lead through your own truth and energetics?" I'm not sure where to begin when all I want to do is stop and sleep, catch my breath, and take it easy until something comes up again.