The Perceived Slog of Growing

With the practice of vulnerability in mind…

I’m moving through a creative block (I hope). Gathering momentum, triangulating and clarifying my authentic voice. And it’s hard. I’ve been showing up with nearly weekly posts to help gather speed. I write with every nap time and I don’t do much else in the ways of free time except for reinvigorating my personal movement practice (which is huge, for me).

Isn’t repetition and working on something supposed to garner results?

Are these my capabilities as a writer?

Here I am again. Is anything changing? Maybe it’s imperceivable for now. And that’s the banger with working at something; growth can be difficult to see in the moment.

I’m working on being satisfied with effort alone, because it’s at least something.

Maybe the real question I should be asking myself is “why” and for “who”. Why do I feel the need to write? Who am I writing for?

It feels like a lot of the time I’m just adding noise to the already over-tracked cacophony of talking in the world. Am I adding anything new? Unlikely. It’s not like any of these ideas haven’t been thought before, expounded upon, and said with more eloquence.

I guess my hope is that these efforts align with someone else’s need. If a spark flies and makes a moment glow, then that would be something. If nothing else, it’s for me.

I’m trying for tryings sake, showing up moment to moment.

While I feel successful as a person being, I can’t tell if it’s my own drive or the internalized cultural narrative of accomplishing that makes me judge my capabilities as an artist, entrepreneur, and facilitator more harshly. It’s certainly a bit of the economics, most definitely.

To be a sensitive, creative in this society is rough; it’s not designed for us and we have to learn how to be authentic within a structure that’s unnatural to our natural state.

All I know is that this perceived failure might eventually transform into fleeting success and that can be a foundation for feeling not only accomplished, but in alignment. They say we learn more from our failures than our successes and for how much I feel like I’m failing maybe it all means I’m in a period of sincere growth.

It’s the least I could hope for, like I’m in a dark tunnel and I’m leaving behind a known landscape for a totally new geography I’ve never encountered before.

I’ll just keep at it until then and maybe, any day now, it’ll be clear how far I’ve come as I exit the darkness and emerge into a place I could only have dreamed of before.