In the first week of February, after 31 Days of Devotion wrapped this year, I started scratching away for ideas and inspiration for the next meditation series I wanted to offer.
I absorbed all of the feedback that was given (thank you!), dumped my current thoughts out on the table, and got to work assembling my mind-matter into groupings and piles that made sense together.
As I scratched, assembled, and brainstormed, I kept coming up… a little empty.
And restless for my next creative idea.
I wrote in all caps in my journal:
MAKE SOMETHING INTERESTING AND USEFUL.
As though having demands shouted at me has ever worked, whether it be from a lover, a manager or myself. Not to mention that creativity rarely functions that way.
I took a few breaths and then had the grace to respond to my demand in a way that was thoughtful and slow.
Let the seedlings come to the surface, love, before chopping them down for firewood.
Huh. Well okay then. I see your point and it's taken.
Instant gratification. Sound bites. Quick and dirty answers.
Most of us have developed an appetite for the accelerated pace of information.
Readily digestible media that may or may not be absorbed into the bloodstream, but sure feels good in the moment.
Nom Nom Nom.
The speed of creating, making, doing, and producing quickly can be really seductive.
I mean, how else do we rise above the noise, right?
To have a thought and immediately share it, - for better or worse - is the water that we swim in.
I recently had a woman disclose, post meditation, that she kept getting distracted in practice by mentally crafting the next Facebook post she was going to write.
The class erupted in laughter — as a signifier of “yeah, I get it.”
It's totally silly when we look straight at it, but it's also so honest for many of us.
The reality is, if you have any creative leanings, or if your livelihood depends on coming up with ideas and content— not just periodically, but prolifically— there is a real pull and honest demand to plant a seedling, chop it down, and share with others as kindling. Preferably twice a day.
I’ve had more than one conversation with friends + clients who have voiced that they feel like they’re falling behind because that website isn’t launched, their concept is still in gestation, their creative impulses are scattered and half-baked.
The pressure to finish percolating is fierce.
But what if what we want to offer is genuinely still in the process of becoming?
What if we treated our ideas like tender little saplings that need the fertilizer of quiet tending, quality input, and consistent scratching at the soil... rather than quick bits for public consumption?
I don’t actually know the answer to this, but it’s a question that’s worth posing.
Even if just for the sake of normalizing that the hectic pace of modern life has us all feeling a little behind.
Maybe it’s okay to have writers block, or brain fuzz, or missing information… as long as we continue to live in the questions. Perhaps the grist that we’re milling is more cast-iron, than non-stick teflon— it’s material that requires seasoning and maintenance, but has the potential to last for decades.
And whether or not that's the case, it's okay to take your time. We'll be here waiting.
Patiently, and hungry for more.