Field notes from space

Hello Reader,

I’ve been slowing down. And it’s freaking me out. It’s been a steady deceleration at a time when the most obvious thing to do would be to floor it.

My book was published in December and a launch can easily last a year. My business always needs love and attention - she’s high-maintenance in the best of ways.

So, there’s a million and one things I could be doing. At least that’s what the ‘10 hacks to be more productive’ experts say.

Yet.

I am pulled into pregnant pauses and open spaces.

My spidey sense is telling me to slow down and allow. What needs to be revealed will remain concealed if I’m speeding on the freeway. Even if it were on a billboard, it would blur by me.

The sandpaper friction between my usual modus operandi (all guns blazing) and the pull to force less, to let go, and allow gives me raspberry bruises. It leaves me with the feeling that I’m not doing enough. It’s a shitty feeling. Nothing else to do but be with it.

This feeling of falling behind signals that I’m doing things differently.

I’ve made some sweeping changes. I exited X while deep in book promo land, generally shifting away from social media. Now, time and space have been freed up, instead of stuffing that cannoli shell space with ricotta, I’m letting it be because something is asking for space and patience. And patience is not waiting, but creating space and seeing what walks into the room (or which rooms I walk into now that I can see the doors).

This feels crunchy. Uncomfortable.

I experience doubt and melancholy, a weight and a lightness. I feel the tentacles of rushing thrashing inside me. The desire to rush, move, get on with it. Let’s fucking go. I like to move it move it.

The difference is I’m not giving into it (maybe a little bit and that’s okay).

The first change is noticing the urge.

This is a strange space. Feeling like I want to crawl out of myself, but choosing to stay put with my hands under my butt on the chair. Yet, it’s trust-filled. There is a part of me that knows this is right.

What if easing into what I am drawn to instead of resisting or doubting it is how I design a life that is uniquely mine?

I’m not used to allowing and leaning back. In the past, I’ve escaped fear of what might happen or come through partying and busyness. I’m learning how to feel it and be with it. Knowing when to lean back, stay still, and lean forward is an art, a dance.

Life is unpredictable. Pushing and driving is how I’ve felt like Charles in Charge. Now, I’m learning how to be okay with not knowing; to sit in the driver’s seat of my life and let go of the wheel while parked in Tempelhof, Berlin’s abandoned airport, watching the clouds shimmying along.

Being a driven, energetic Speed Queen is one of my superpowers. It’s gotten me far and out of some deep ditches. But she’s only one of them, the one I’ve fed the most. I have others, like my intuition, that I’m starting to hear more clearly (a good sign, because it means I’m listening more).

Then there’s what’s beyond me. I'm only part of the equation - there's also life, universal energy, source. She doesn't care what you call her.

All this feels scary. What am I really afraid of? Failure. The book not becoming what it has the potential to be because I’m not doing enough, same for my business, with the added pressure of survival. Beyond that, it’s not blowing up and reaching my explosive full potential.

But what I really want is an ease-filled, luxurious, creative life.

Do you see it? The conflict? Doing more and an ease-filled, creative life are mutually exclusive. Like Kanye and Swift, they don’t gel.

Therein lies the rub. If “doing enough” aka A LOT is the way to ensure success, then it won’t be ease-filled and luxurious. I won’t luxuriate in my life.

Ease-filled luxury is not having every crevice of my day stacked and packed. It's being with the indigestion, churning, and "I'm not doing enough" feeling when I slow it down, create, look around, feel, and trust. Knowing it's a sign of growth and change. And this too, will pass.

It’s not hustling, grinding, or creating on a timeline, and definitely not for an algorithm, but crafting the art that is my life (and work) and creating space to experience it fully.

Space is fertile. It’s the field where wild daisy ideas grow. I love that I dedicated an entire chapter to slowing down and creating space for creativity to stretch its legs called "la dolce far niente is doing something." La dolce far niente means the sweetness of doing nothing. It’s a philosophy of delicious idleness. Bring it on, along with tiramisu and affogato. The Italians know how to luxuriate in life.

It’s not trying so fucking hard or trying to get somewhere, fast.

Experiment and see what happens when you stop trying and start allowing. When you catch yourself trying, sweat on your upper lip, that’s often a sign you’re out of alignment.

This sense of urgency comes from expecting and wanting specific things to happen on a specific timeline. Control. When your hands are clenched and knuckles white, releasing your fingers, allowing the blood to flow, and taking a deep belly breath is how you release into the unknown.

I’ve worked with my clients on slowing down to create. Recently, one client explored finding a new way of moving from ideation to implementation. In the past, he would create mind-bending solutions in a speedy frenzy, but he lost people and energy in the chaos. When he removed the urgency, his team had space to collaborate and time to reflect and develop ideas.

This spacious approach allowed them to see new solutions, saving the company 3 million a year.

That’s what I call a quantum flirt - he reminded me that moving in a new way can have unforeseen benefits.

Living a creative life requires marinating in it. Your art, business, and creative ventures need space and time. Clarity. Deep trust and allowing.

How can we create unless we stop? Ideas lose oxygen between meetings in iCal. Our creativity is asking us to release the timeline and enjoy the process.

This David Lynch video captures the clash between the culture of done and creation beautifully.

​

But how do I know when it’s enough? What’s enough? As much as allows for ease and spaciousness. Accepting that feeling of “not doing enough” comes from giving myself the space. Now, I get to inhabit it. And right now, it feels weird.

So, what helps when I feel the pressure to do more?

Soothing my nervous system. Bringing my body into the fold and this new way of being. The body remembers, holds more memories, and needs time to catch up to the mind. A practice that has helped is an affirmation and deep breath combo:

In this moment, I have everything I need. I am well. I feel peace. I am safe and free.

Inhaling on three, holding for two, and exhaling five after each affirmation. Repeating this three times. Every time I remember to do it, my energy shifts, bringing me right back here and out of the imagined future.

Prioritization helps too. Getting clear on what really matters, identifying that one big daily needle-moving action, and setting realistic goals that create space.

I'm scared of what happens when I let go. Scared of what shore I might wash up on. And that’s okay.

I’ve decided not to hold onto the rock anymore, trying to control my experience and the outcome (because I recognize its slimy feel). That’s forfeiting the full flavor experience of life, settling for the light, known version.

Maybe I won’t get a chance to see all it can become if I try to control its becoming.

Yes AND the default “doing as much as possible to ensure success and safety” speaks really loudly like a trader on his cell in a lounge.

That’s okay, I’m practicing doing what’s calling me, trusting, opening, releasing the bar, and slipping and sliding into unknown waters.

And you know what? Ideas and opportunities are waltzing into the space.

Because creativity loves luxuriating on the plush emerald velvet couch.

You so got this,