As I settle into my new life, the challenges of getting here feel further away. Of course, there are new challenges, but my rabbit Gnocchi and I are stabilizing. From that budding stability, creativity is starting to flow again. Well, drip. Then trickle. THEN flow. 

I’ve always been a creative person. Making art, singing, dancing, painting, writing, whatever I could get my hands on. 

But even though artistic expression is my native language, I still go through periods where my tongue is tied. My pipes are clogged. I’m wrapped up in fear and doubt and other things are higher on the priority list.

Each time I come back and start flowing again, it feels like coming home. I’m sitting on the floor like I did as a kid, with my smelly markers, humming and doodling and wiggling my toes. 

Sometimes, I lose sight of this girl. But when I remember, she reminds me that she isn’t just a child I have to appease from time to time. 

Play is a way of being. It’s what makes life…alive. Like surfing a wave of inspiration, I’m moving  and grooving and things and people are just coming to me. I’m laughing. I’m having fun. And I’m at peace.

You can’t surf the wave forever, all waves crash. But you can develop your ability to access it, especially if you’ve forgotten your inner artist for a long time and life is feeling like a drag. This is for you if you’re overwhelmed, heavy and depleted. 

This is when it’s time to remember. It is essential to reconnect. Now. Not once you get to the bottom of your to-do list. Because the list never ends. 

So right now, wherever you’re reading this, imagine yourself putting on your FUN GOGGLES. Make them as outrageously silly and vibrantly colorful as you wish. And let yourself see the world through them. 

Ask them to help you see the fun, the absurd, the silly. Don’t make it another task for you to manage. Ask them for help, ask to RECEIVE inspiration. 

All you have to do is be willing to see it. Don’t let your naggy, critical mind talk you out of nurturing the little seeds. Maybe you notice a flower petal on the ground. Pick it up. Maybe you catch yourself in the mirror. Stick your tongue out. Do something dumb like it’s the most important thing in the world. 

Give every seed room to grow. Because every plant, every tree, every human being, starts as a seed. It just needs protection, care, and time.

“How do I know who I am?”

“How do I know what I want?”

“How do I trust myself?”

People ask me these questions all the time. I ask me these questions all the time. And answers always come from getting to the bottom of how you feel. Sorting through the mess of voices to get to the truth.

Knowing doesn’t come from the anxious mind that’s asking. You have to feel it. So I wrote a poem because I genuinely think that’s the best way to arrive there. Poetry is the language of feeling. It uses words to knock on the door of the Soul. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t want to meet their Soul.

Look for the room where the candle is lit, 

where you see the flame

and there’s no mistaking the heat. 

Wander until your feet feel the Earth,

where there’s life underneath you

and there’s no mistaking your own.

Don’t get lost in thoughts and words,

growing taller and more out of reach.

Stay close to the spirit and learn how it likes to speak.

Listen for the voice that doesn’t talk down,

need proof or want someone to blame.

Listen for the voice that isn’t wearing anyone else’s skin.

Listen for the voice that’s naked, 

and always speaks up for your heart.

Don’t worry about seeing miles ahead.

Fire only illuminates the next step.

If you plan the rest now, 

you miss where inspiration wants to guide you,

where there’s no doubt your Soul is home. 

I was planning a blog post about a time this week when I had to set down my expectations and get out of my own way…but something else came out instead, so I had to set down my expectations and get out of my own way. How appropriate. I ended up writing what I needed in that moment: something to help me get in the mood to create when I’m feeling uninspired or resistant. And so, here is my prayer to creativity. I hope it blesses you with a SPARK!

wherever i come from,

willing or…less,

an idea on my soul,

or nothing, just yet.

may the gods crowd around me

and fill up my chest.

may my heart be wide open

to inspiration’s breath.

let my mind be a servant

to gather, then rest,

to surrender its fears

and its thoughts of what’s “best.”

i’m lighting a candle

and making the bed,

so something more precious

can lay down instead.

i’m scattering petals,

a rainbow of colors,

so creativity knows

it belongs in these covers.

i’m singing sweet songs

to entice all the lovers.

to show them it’s safe,

i brought plenty of rubbers.

this is a place 

to be wild and free,

for everything silly 

and sacred to meet.

closing my eyes,

i bough to the tree.

i’m ready to give life

to what’s coming through me.

I had a dream the other night where some lines of a poem came through. One of the characters said them to me right before I woke up. This happens sometimes and it’s very exciting. It feels like someone or something is speaking to you through your own subconscious. 

I try to be available to receive inspiration as often as I can. I use meditation, visualization, writing and talking to people to keep myself clear and open. I believe we can all use these tools to plug into the Universe.

But sometimes, life piles up and my pipe gets clogged. I sit down to write and everything feels lame and overthought. Or I lay down to meditate and my brain keeps pulling me out.

I’m currently on the East coast where I grew up, visiting people and places from my past. This triggers ALLL these old versions of myself, and A LOT of interference. I’m trying to keep my channel clear and stay present, but I’m experiencing an avalanche of old thoughts and feelings threatening to bury me. It’s been really frustrating, and sad. 

Before this trip, I felt so strong. I had tasted the next version of myself coming down the pipeline. She felt SO GOOD. Clear, grounded, and easily in flow. Now, it feels like I’m falling back into old patterns and losing touch with the person I’m becoming.

In retrospect, these moments of regression always precede a big leap forward. I know it. I’ve seen it a million times, in myself and others. It’s almost as if they were the necessary pulling back of the slingshot before we launch forward. Still, it is hard to weather these feelings as they are happening. I keep meditating, I keep visualizing, I keep writing and talking, and it’s still hard.

Sometimes, that’s all you can do. To just allow it to be hard and stop trying to force yourself to feel different.

And so I tell myself, as if I’m that new version of myself from the future, “It’s okay. I love you. I’m coming.”

?

What if 

I let go of the thought

that perfect is out there,

somewhere else.

?

What if 

I have everything I need,

but never stopped

to check.

?

What if

I bathed in the warmth

of what’s here,

right now.

Here, my inner richness sits,

while I search the whole world

for the treasure I’ve painstakingly carried

every, single, step.

The gold inside

waits patiently to be discovered

the moment you open the door.

An ocean

waves, and waves, and waves,

knowing someday, you’ll come home.

Your hands reach out

to hold you.

Your heart bursts forth

to feel you.

Your eyes long to close

so you can see.

Okay, so that’s the poem I wrote for this week. But here’s the very first thing I wrote:

“Oh god, what am I thinking, I need to get into flow, how will I do that, just keep writing. Listen to something that will calm me. I feel really good about being here. I have some anxiety.”

Sometimes, there’s more to clear out before inspiration strikes. But today, this was enough. Every time I sit down to write, I’m afraid that nothing “good” will surface. But, 9 times out of 10, patience yields something I’m proud to share. If I can stick with it through my mind doubting and struggling to adjust its rhythm, I can find the flow. It helps me to think of it this way, to remind myself that my job is not to try to write. My job is to stay open long enough for my thoughts to get out of the way so something more interesting can come through. Of course, I put my brain to work finding the right words, and shaping what comes out. But if I let it get too involved, it strangles the magic. Here’s to the mindfuck of trying to not try, just the right amount.