When I search the world outside
to validate my experience, my feeling, my desire—
when I try to prove I am the same—
I feel most isolated and disconnected from everyone and everything.
When I sink intimately within
to be still with my experience, my feeling, my desire—
when I accept myself as I am—
I feel most tender and connected to everyone and everything.
When I’m caught in worry, trying to think the unknown into certainty, and pulling the knots of anxiety ever tighter, spaciousness is right there. A breath away. A blink.
Even when it seems impossible to slip through to it, spaciousness is right there, waiting for me to call it in.
My Inner Committee likes consistency.
They construct a story over my life, and define my character, and do all they can to rationalise any deviation and maintain the illusion of a consistent and knowable me.
I believe their stories. So, when a desire or a feeling rises from within does not fit the story, I believe I must shut down until I’ve solved the apparent contradiction.
Which is the real me and which is the fake?
If I’m afraid, I can’t be courageous.
If I’m unsure, I can’t be relied on.
I find myself trapped in looping arguments until I ask the question: Who or what does this ‘virtue’ of consistency serve?
I can be fearful AND strong. I can be self-doubting AND capable.
Sometimes I’m lucky enough to sit in a puddle of sunlight, hearing only birds and the shifting breeze through the treetops, seeing the branches bend and sway, and believe, for a moment, that this is my only purpose.
I’ve spent many hours, days, weeks and even years hiding from my fear. At the heart of it, hiding from my self.
Conventional advice: Throw off the covers. Square your shoulders and set your jaw. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Keep moving. Think of the time already lost and how short life can be.
My experience: That advice sucks. If you want to hide under your bedcovers, do it. Notice how it feels to give yourself what you want, unconditionally. Soften into the need swirling beneath that want. Pull back the curtains a little and gaze at the trees, the sky.
You can see a lot from your bed.
As a few of you may remember, a little over three months ago I put my online services and this website (then known as smart fresh writing) on pause. At the time I wrote:
I’m taking a pause: to renew, reflect, explore and dream… time to refuel and rethink my business direction. I don’t know for sure what I’ll be offering when I get back, but I’ll let you know.
I took the time and space to play in the mud, to make little things that delighted me, to pour paint around on big sheets of paper, and even to take singing lessons. It felt like I was turning over the creative soil, composting experiences and ideas to fold back into the earth and see what might grow.
And this is what emerged: I want to find out what it takes to craft a truly self-expressive business:life. Meaning, a business:life in which you don’t have to deny anything about your self, a business:life that fits exactly how you function and that fully expresses what arises from within you.
I don’t know what that might look like, and I certainly don’t have a master plan for all this, but I’m ready to explore all the messy possibilities. And I’m hoping you might be reckless enough to come exploring with me.
If you’d like to know more, you could start with my invitation. You can read more about the self-expressive business:life and how I’ll be sharing my explorations in the bookstore & studio. If you’re ready to dive in you can subscribe to Letters for the Reckless.
And for those who’ve been asking, I’m now available for 1-on-1 sessions to help you unleash your business message (and not feel like you’re losing your self in the process).
Thank you for being a part of this.