Look, I hate being boxed in. Walking through the catacombs in Paris? No thank you. Entering an elevator with more people than you’d be comfortable getting stuck with? Also, no.

Like I’ve said before, boxes have a tendency to make me panic.

But the thought of a boundless field also induces twinges of panic–what if there are snakes? Or the irrational fear of getting stuck in a gigantic building like Ikea alone at night.

And really, what is being human in the age of civilization if not a dance between confines and freedom?

And so out of necessity of not constantly giving myself emotional whiplash, something I’ve come to learn is that sometimes the box I think is there isn’t really there at all. Instead, what’s actually making me panic is the unbounded freedom and my mind, not knowing what the hell to do with said freedom, has instead opted to create a box.

Sure, we can call them limiting beliefs or limiting decisions, but what they really are is an invisible box we’re creating to keep our egos safe and in familiar territory.

But what if the box isn’t there? And what if roaming was exactly what you needed to find the next things you want to pursue?

I know that’s been exactly what I’ve needed. Maybe the task is getting comfortable with the unfamiliar. When we don’t arbitrarily box ourselves in, the path to the edge of the field suddenly becomes clear.

xx,

Sometimes we feel restless because we need to take a deep breath and remind ourselves that everything is well and truly fine.

But sometimes we’re restless because we need to rest less. 

If you’ve been ignoring some creative urge, it’s likely the latter.

In those moments, all the generic “self-care” rituals or opting to watch the fourth season of Bridgerton is likely to make the restlessness worse. A small creative act does wonders though.

And then when you rest, you might actually be able to experience restfulness.

Trapped creativity doesn’t mess around.

Going back to bed now,

Sometimes when I feel off, I pick up a (red) pen and start moving my hand without any rhyme or reason. Whenever I do this, there’s inevitably a moment when I feel like an insane person as I wait for the momentum to build and my hand to start dancing across the page in more fluid movements.

“Will I get a message?”

“Am I simply scribbling nothingness?”

“Have I lost my mind?”*

These thoughts float into my consciousness even though I have enough evidence to trust that what I need to explore will come and yet, I still wonder if it will happen.

Here’s what transpired today:

First, pick up my pen and get my mind out of the way long enough to not feel totally insane and instead let my hand start to move.

Second, observe myself drawing a bunch of confusing looking circles in a spiral that somewhat resemble a flower by the end.

Recognize I’m in the process of writing, “Peace is yours to claim.” Think to myself, “mmm, that seems relevant.”

Lastly, in messy letters illegible to even myself yet heard clearly as the pen trailed across the page, “Write your heart. That is your art.”

What a beautiful sentiment. Thanks unconscious.

And that is what I’m aiming to do here, write my heart in a way that speaks to yours.

If you dare try this simple creative practice, I’d love to know what comes up for you. Drop me a note in the comments.

xx

*I’m beginning to think, sometimes losing our minds, or at least temporarily misplacing them, might actually be a good thing. When our minds quiet, we can hear other signals.

When “No” Feels Like Torture

Saying no is sometimes difficult because we think that saying no now is saying no forever. So even though it may not feel good to say no in the moment, it feels worse to shun the idea forever so we end up saying yes. What loosens this thought trap is adopting the perspective some ideas aren’t a no, but they’re a not right now. “Not right now” is a no with room for it to turn into a yes later.

Bonus: When we have a place to store things we’re saying no to right now, and give ourselves a date to revisit them, it can be even easier to say no.

Ways to Say No

• No
• No, thank you
• Not right now
• I have other priorities right now.
• I’m not willing to commit to that now.

With change, comes choice.

Change is inevitable, but along with change comes the opportunity for choice. 

When change comes knocking, make a choice. Choose transformation. 

The day to day business of loving someone is seldom discussed. 

Songs tend to be about heartbreak, falling in love, or the major milestones that disrupt the mundane. 

However, the magic lies within the mundane. Because it’s there that commitment lies. 

Relationships serve up our patterns/beliefs/shit on a silver platter—sometimes it’s polished and easy for us to see and let go of, and other times it’s a rather dirty platter that’s going to take time for it be completely clear. 

The love songs illuminate the breakdowns or highlight the highs, but rarely do we see pictures of what it’s really like to love someone day to day. The experience of waking up to the same person day in and day out and what it takes to keep passion alive. 

The stories of learning how to turn a conflict about the dishes into an opportunity for connection so that we grow closer instead of drifting apart because we were too scared to embrace vulnerability. 

The risky process of expressing what you need and want and being vulnerable about how you feel. 

Breaking down a pattern with someone so the past stops dictating the present relationship.

When searching for a shortcut, you usually end up taking a longer route. 

Shortcuts are better stumbled upon.

The shortcut to the life of your dreams is that there is no shortcut outside of yourself. Instead, living your gifts every day and focusing on what you want instead of what you don’t will lead to the leap frog moments that feel like you stumbled upon a shortcut.