I feel like I am waking up from a long nap. I’m disoriented, I’m refreshed, I’m uncertain what day or time it is, and I am mulling over an assortment of vivid dreams. Things seem… a little muddier and brighter at the same time. This is classic retrograde in action (hi, we’re in mercury rx until the end of April - what a treat): the questioning, the unexpected thoughts/events/feelings, the sudden notion that everything is up for either throwing in the trash or miraculously catching out of thin air. Pay close attention to the questions right now. Pay close attention to your restlessness and your rage and your inspiration. Folks who dabble in the mystic can find meaning in anything, but right now our inner worlds are especially potent. Even for the regular joes out there, should they choose to look for the magic.
During times of confusion, writing really soothes me. It’s something I can count on when everything else feels stagnant or uncertain. For months I didn’t have the capacity and I really felt its absence. There is something about the act of writing that helps me zoom in on the glorious microcosm of life, which in turn allows me to calm way down. When you’re having an anxiety episode you’re supposed to look around and start naming things you can see, touch, smell, etc. This is tried and true, many times over. It isn’t always about speed, my friends. More often than not I find the best parts of my life happen when everything is moving very, very slowly. I remember this when I am mad that things aren’t happening in the timing I want them to.
I also live with ADHD so I often catch myself running around worrying about a hundred things that haven’t happened yet that I am anxious about being able to handle, or in just another way of putting it, I actively catastrophize things due to not always being able to see the steps to a solution or not feeling like I have the space to slow down and remember that I am capable. My mind runs so fast all the time and can keep me in a state that feels like I am hurtling through space without a helmet. I learn new things about my brain and my neurodivergence every day, and I am finally starting to appreciate how fast my mind moves. It’s just that my body that doesn’t like to move so fast. So, slowing down is an art form for me, and I try to practice and play with it as much as I can. Writing provides a doorway to that stillness for me and I have to remind myself of that over and over. There have been little newsletter gnats buzzing around me for awhile trying to annoy me into sitting down to write. So, here I am. Finally. I was sitting in bed the other night letting the magnesium slow me down and I suddenly thought of about 100 things I wanted to write about. We love a persistent spark.
I feel like I am driving some cosmic lawn mower and each time I go over a patch of grass and cut it perfectly I am so surprised and pleased but then I immediately notice all the spots I missed and I am pissed and confused about it. When I am stressed I go into perfectionist mode as a way to regain some control over my experience, but unfortunately my perfectionism doesn’t really touch everything. My room is a godawful mess no matter how many times a week I stop to pick things up — there are small doom piles everywhere. Nothing is organized well without very concentrated effort, which I don’t always have access to. In these moments I think about the times I’ve been acting onstage and it’s all so much easier, I get to have intense focus and I am so precise about the choices I am making — where the inflection lands best for a guaranteed laugh from the audience, how I am shaping the dialect in my mouth, when to smooth the folds of my skirt during a scene to make it seem as natural as possible. Smooth, cut grass. It’s much harder to do this when I am trying to keep house while also working a full time job while also caring for a dog while also soothing my nervous system while also seeing the world fall apart.
The every day, keeping myself alive stuff, is weeds. I cut them down, they instantly grow back. I scatter fertilizer, they adapt. BUT - the creative endeavors? The writing? They are seamless, even within the messes and mistakes. I think there is something profound about that. Creativity comes from the heart, and the heart is perfect. The heart understands that mess is just another manifestation of infinite possibility. So this means that whenever I am stressed and routinely fixating on what is wrong in the room, the heart is available to clarify. It’s a pair of glasses with the perfect prescription and all we need to do is remember to put them on.
I have never once been failed by my heart. Of course that immediately makes me think of all the times I have done something absolutely insane in the name of “love.” Many of us become angry at our own hearts for leading us astray, for tethering us to unhealthy partners and patterns. But zoom out, my friends (I’m talking to myself here, too) — that was not your heart. It was your beloved conditioning and self-preservation mechanisms running the show. The conditioning says to us, “Okay, so yeah, they are emotionally unavailable, but maybe if I over-extend myself, maybe if I become as helpful as possible they will need me and open up to me.” The heart says, “It is a great act of love to make the difficult choice to exit this situation. You deserve reciprocity and care. You deserve a big love, and it is out there. We may have to wait, but hope is a great friend to lean on.” My conditioning led me into disaster over and over throughout the last 15 years or so, but my heart led me to end those disasters and then it led me to my last relationship, for which and I am eternally grateful. I’m grateful to recognize the heart’s voice and I’m grateful I finally learned to let it help me receive care and honest love. I deserve that and so do you.
In another context my conditioning might say to me, “You are not capable of living a successful life with good, healthy habits. You should feel shame and guilt for letting your clothes pile up or for not being available to your family all the time or for not getting that oil change right away.” My heart says, “Look at all the ways you take care of yourself. Look at the routines you’ve built despite navigating a swirly brain. Notice how you make time whenever you can to take a deep breath and separate yourself from unkind narratives so that you can remember you’re doing your best.” Right on, heart. Being alive is tough work. For all intents and purposes, I’m acing life. And so are you.
The reason I love hiking/walking so much is because nature is ALL heart and it’s so easy to see it when you’re strolling around holding soft focus. Nature takes its time. It’s generous, it’s forgiving. Everything works together so well and honors the cycle. Everything is present to reality. Flowers and leaves wilt when it’s too hot, and why shouldn’t they? Nature knows how to be uncomfortable. It also knows how to celebrate and it doesn’t deny itself the truth of its experience. It makes me want to disappear into folds of bark on a tree and just sit and wait and sing about it. There may be tension there, with an ant crawling over my nose or a dog peeing on me or a squirrel digging its claws in, but it’s a gracious sort of tension - it doesn’t linger. It comes, it goes. It doesn’t amplify itself and anticipate everything else that could go wrong. I see the ant, I wriggle around, it’s gone. I see the dog, there it goes. I wait for rain, and then it comes.
If you are the type of person who, like me, tends to get lost in the possibilities and builds anxiety about what isn’t happening or what hasn’t yet come to pass, I highly recommend taking a few minutes to write down all your fears. It will take away their weight and power, I promise. Just get them all our of your head so they aren’t taking up space anymore. Write them down, be with them, and it’s likely you’ll realize how separate your reality actually is from all that noise. I am still, over a year later, grieving the exit of my best friend and I have been struggling big time with intrusive thinking around friendship and loneliness. I have SO many incredible people in my life and I’ve been lucky to be part of a large and diverse community, but my former best friend was the one that I told all of my shit to. She was the one that I could count on interacting with nearly every day, the first person I wanted to call when something huge happened or even more importantly, when a nothing moment happened - like going to the grocery store and having a memorable 5 second interaction with the cashier. I don’t know who to tell my little stuff to anymore. My brain takes this and tells me that I’ll never have that bond with someone again, which makes my body feel rigid and unavailable.
And then in swoops my heart with messages of time and hope and reminders that I have all the tools and motivation to make new connections. I believe we have many soulmates in life. Losing one is heartbreaking, but more are on their way. I’m clinging to this now in many ways. I’ve been signing up for lots of classes and trying to attend more community events in an effort to build some bridges. My brain still sometimes quietly begs me to isolate and avoid, but my heart is louder, and it is encouraging me to show up. I’ve decided who the boss of my life is (my big fat beautiful heart) because she’s never, ever steered me wrong. So while I am still feeling very afraid and lonely, I am also feeling bright and shiny and optimistic. I am the bark on a tree, waiting for a visitor. I am a heron, waiting for a fish to swim by. I am patiently awaiting more good fortune to cross my path. If I am available to it, it always arrives.
Love you.
Ah thank you - I needed this sweet tender heart reminder today. Grieving a friendship too. May the availability be so. <3