My North Star
Like a wise old sage, my heart waits to join the conversation - My Sunday Best #36
I don’t watch much TV. Mostly because I can always think of something else I’d rather be doing. But, the other night, it felt good to crawl into bed early and watch a Christmas movie on the Hallmark Channel on my iPad. I know it’s still November, but I wanted to watch something that felt warm and fuzzy. The night before, we played a gig outside on a windy bluff where the wind blew a steady 20 miles an hour, accented by a few gusts that threatened to blow over my microphone stand. We powered through the gig and had a great time, thanks to a few friends who toughed it out with us. However, the next day, I was windblown and exhausted.
In the guaranteed happy ending Christmas movie, a woman gives a journal with a North Star emblem on the cover to another woman suffering from amnesia. She told her that “the north star has guided many a weary traveler home.” This struck me and reminded me of something I learned long ago. Writing is a direct line to the heart. When I write, words flow from the heart, down the arm, through the fingers, the pen, and to the page. The truth effortlessly falls out of the pen and spills onto the blank page. Judging from the pages in my notebook, I had forgotten about this simple practice. Lately, my daily entries read more like a calendar — a list of dates with a sentence or two in between.
I first learned about stream-of-consciousness writing in Julia Cameron’s book The Artist’s Way. In the book, she strongly encourages writing Morning Pages, which involve writing three full pages every morning without overthinking, editing, or lifting the pen from the page. I do this when I have an idea for a new song. The process creates a magical compost pile of thoughts and words to draw from. But I had forgotten how valuable this practice can be for everyday life. Opening the connection from my heart to my hand offers insight into who I am and where I am going. These words from my heart are my North Star. Even though I rarely go back and read what I wrote, the process gives me what I need to begin again.
“The north star has guided many a weary traveler home.”
Beginning again shows up frequently in my songs. I love knowing I have another chance and another day. I also love the freedom that comes with being a beginner. In my tai chi/yoga class this morning, the instructor said I didn’t have to come in as an expert to lead. I was so relieved because I still have deep-rooted beliefs that I need validation from outside myself to be considered worthy.
I have certificates, diplomas, and awards that I’ve earned throughout my lifetime that prove I’ve done big things—faded and torn pieces of paper, tarnished silver trophies in different shapes and sizes stored away in boxes, or lost through moves. In today’s world, some accolades aren’t as tangible. They come in digital likes, shares, streams, followers, etc.
Don’t get me wrong. I still love a good pat on the back. Don’t we all? My grand nephew’s face beaming when he wears the championship buckle he won for riding a bull is priceless— he just turned seven, by the way. And I know exactly where I want to display that Grammy I secretly dream of winning—although it’s not much of a secret anymore.
“My most powerful contributions will most likely arise out of the things I love.” Carrie Newcomer
However, winning an award or gaining recognition isn’t what keeps me starting over again day after day. Doing what I love and allowing the north star of my heart to lead the way is what lights me up. It’s like one big treasure hunt—a mysterious journey of clues and surprises. The best part is that I don’t have to know it all. I can begin again by following the truths that fall out of my pen onto the blank pages in my book of dates, to-dos, thoughts, and reminders.