this morning's meditation is sweetness tossed in with spurts of feeling daunted. not heavy spurts. light spurts. i know exactly how it is triggered. from the session with my editor yesterday. we are now dealing with structural issues. roles and purposes of characters, goal of a scene, what need to go into which third of the book...all that good stuff. yet, as she says, you write so beautifully and you are at your best when you just write and write, so we don't want to make you write like you are doing a job, have to follow a checklist of things to put in.
i really don't know how to resolve this right now. i guess i'll just do the only thing i know how. let the feeling be there, and ask, you are a flash of supreme consciousness, what are you showing me? quickly a couple of things come up. inadequacy. smallness. unworthiness. okay, enough for now. and really, they are all variants of forgetting that i hold within me the source of that which creates the entire physical universe that ever existed, is existing and will exist. obviously this truth is still something in the head and mind, not in the heart and blood. what ought i do? please show me, my innermost and highest self.