Slogging Through the Mundane

Post Kool Aid Series #2

The Pain of the Process

It’s a whole lot easier when we are excited, inspired, raring to go. We feel braver, more creative, ready to take on the world. The Universe feels like it is in sync with our great visions. Serendipity is everywhere.

parched lands But it is a whole lot harder when it’s not. When it feels like it’s all dried up. When nothing feels inspired or worthwhile. The writing feels forced, the relationships false, and the big question comes up ‘what on earth am I doing here?’ to which there is only the echo of our words.

 I wasn’t going to write about this because I thought, ‘what is there to write about?’ I’ll wait until I’m on the other side, successful, then I’ll share it. Then it will make for a great story!

But I was speaking to my friend, Michelle Hart, and she suggested that this intimate struggle could be of value to others. That this part, the slugging thru the mundane, the sticking with it, when there doesn’t seem to be a point, is worth sharing. Even if I’m not thru to the other side yet. Even if I’m not sure where I’ll end up.

It has been three months since I stopped drinking the Kool Aid. Three months since I took myself off the email lists, cancelled programs, stopped networking, stopped launching, stopped scrabbling up an elusive hill, stopped putting myself out there for Speak Your Passion.

I told myself I would give myself the summer to let things settle. I would have the patience to see what would come out of the storm.   I would let things develop organically, exploring all the old paradigms, trusting the Universe would guide me.

But what happens when our time table doesn’t play out according to plan…..?

I recently heard a speaker talk about the theory that we all create our own reality, even if it seems as though we have no control over the events.

This summer, my mother’s health declined and my sister and I had to face the truth that she has Alzheimer’s and we are headed in only one direction.

This summer, my daughter left for Europe for 5 months. Up until the moment I put her on a plane, we were oil and water. Somehow forever at cross purposes, my heart aching at the inability to reach her.

To add to it all there has been a painful shutting down of my creative impulses. To not be in a creative flow feels like a questioning of my very identity. Who am I, why am I here, if I am not creating, not producing something that feels worthwhile?

At least when I was in the madness of starting Speak Your Passion, I was charged with energy and inspiration. I’d started taking pen and paper with me on walks to capture all the ideas that were flowing.

These days I barely have the patience for my morning pages. I write a page or so and then it’s like I’ve just run out of ink. During my writing classes I have nearly nodded off at the page.

I am in a room with blinders on. Sounds muffled, everything half-mast, muted. A ship floating at sea with no wind in her sails.

So this speaker’s words lingered in my head. What exactly was the reality I was creating for myself? What were the lessons I was meant to be learning?

I think what I learned was letting go. Of so many things. Of roles and expectations, and old beliefs. It was feeling the pain of the loss, accepting the discomfort. It was recognizing that mixed in with the sorrow were also anger, resentment, fear, envy. It was understanding that I, as a member of the human race, have a wide range of emotions and all of them valid. It was telling the truth, even when it was hard.

This morning I woke up and the bedroom was chilly. Summer was over. I remembered another wise person once said, “And this too, will change.”

As I was writing my pages there was a flickering, a remembering, a stirring. A chill ran down my spine. It had been a long time. And I realized: 

  • I am starting to take pleasure in reaching out and connecting again, being back out in the world.
  • Every now and then there is a piece of writing I am proud of.
  • I just signed up to do a poetry reading with one of my best friends and writing teacher, Deb Brown.
  • A new client signed up out of the blue.
  • I am still standing. Looking at all of this. Trying to understand. Moving forward.

At long last I can see the mountaintop again. The mists are clearing. I don’t quite know my way to that mountain, but there is a fluttering of joy, of anticipation. Because, goodness, at least I can see it!Mists clearning

So what do we do when we are in the thick of it? What do we do when we are uninspired? When everything seems mundane and dull, and we can’t get excited about anything?

When weeks and months go by and there is no flicker of creativity or inspiration? When it feels hopeless?

All I can share is what I held to during these past few months when the days seemed dark:

 I did my morning pages without fail – even as I complained and kvetched.

  • I walked to the sea every day and prayed for guidance.
  • I tried to eat well, good food that supported my health
  • I took a tantric dance class and in moments of grace connected with Spirit.
  • I kept up with my writing classes – even as painful and dreadful as many of those writings were. I kept showing up, putting pen to paper.
  • I embraced the work I was doing with the great team at G3 Green Gardens Group. So grateful for the passion, support and structure it provided.

I’ll share just one more saying that I have held to like a talisman, ‘ We are never not on the path.’ Even when we forget, even when it is hard to see.

To all of you out there, here is to your journey. You are never not on the path.

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  1. Love this article, this is a very powerful piece and I would love to see more like this!


    1. thanks so much. Hey – I get to see what you look like!


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