Magic Through Nerves And Reason

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Paper Freedom, Origami abstract vector illustration.I remember decades ago reading something about nervous energy simply being a sign that you’re doing something important. Something you’re passionate about.

I’m a bundle of nerves. I am shot through with adrenaline on a minute-to-minute basis these days and it’s not letting up. If you could check my pulse right now you’d probably be shocked, and it’s been that way for days on end. Racing. Racing.

I’m trying to embrace these nerves. I know why I have them. I’ve taken a full nosedive into my nonprofit and an effort to change the world to help moms with perinatal mood and anxiety disorders. I’m trying to tackle some very big things. I have my hand stirring countless pots, and I need some of them to finally boil. I need obstacles removed. I need to make things happen. The longer this takes the faster my heart beats, and I worry it may explode.

I’m convinced I could run from here to New York and I wouldn’t burn off this energy. And no, it’s not mania. I sleep, believe me. It’s more of a final acceptance and embrace and commitment to getting certain things done and the fear that comes with not knowing exactly how to do them but going for it anyway. It’s decades of the pent up need of thousands of mothers all pounding inside my heart muscle and binding my chest and I can hardly breathe.

Today I searched for that quote about nervous energy from my youth and I couldn’t find it anywhere, so maybe I was deluding myself with that one, but I did find this:

“When magic through nerves and reason passes,
Imagination, force, and passion will thunder.
The portrait of the world is changed.”
― Dejan StojanovicCircling: 1978-1987

My life right now. Magic through nerves and reason. The portrait of the world will be changed.

Photo credit: © blinkblink – Fotolia.com

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Comments

  1. Amen. I performed flute throughout high school and college on a semi-professional level. I was a seasoned performer. And yet with every concert or recital, I found myself full of butterflies. Instead of a sign that I wasn’t good enough, I always tried to take it as a sign of how much I cared. Of how much the music mattered to me. The the nerves were a sign of my passion.

    I’m sure it’s the same for you, K.

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