The Risk To Remain Tight in a Bud

This morning in the quietness of my house, before anyone had woken, I sat to write my pre-meditation morning pages. My pen felt heavy, writing felt laborious. The stream of consciousness didn’t flow and the simple act of placing pen to paper felt exhausting. I’m halfway through another round of The Artist’s Way, a 12-week process which upon rising we commit to a specific writing exercise.

In the past decade I’ve made some massive shifts in my life, all of which are bolstered by and blossom from a foundation of different, consistent rituals. None of which require big dramatic changes in routine, all of which require commitment and gentle-discipline to keep at. 

One thing is for certain, it’s the moments when these practices become a challenge, when the chitter-chatter in my head tells me they’re "not working” “silly” “an impractical use of my time” that I know that they are working. 

When there is resistance, if you keep going, there will soon be revelation.

When we’re wading through the muck, each step feels laboured and long. This is an inevitable phase of growth. The initial excitement has worn off and the real work, the exciting stuff, the juicy, messy-ness is where we find opportunity. Any professional athlete, or successful entrepreneurs, writers, artists will tell you that the decisions made and the commitments upheld when exhausted, overwhelmed or bored are the ones that matter the most. 

These are are petals are unfurling.

And the risk to remain tight in a bud became more painful than the risk it took to blossom. - Anaïs Nin

On a mind level, at this moment of gentle persistence different neural pathways fire and brand new habits can form over time. We practice discipline, staying the course and honoring the process. Just like learning a new language, we’re clunky and labored at first but then the new language starts to become familiar, eventually fluent. In the middle of this new-ness and the uncertainty, we find clarity and we learn to trust the unknown. 

We don’t need to move in leaps and bounds all the time. In fact we can “rest on the pages” as Julia Cameron writes in The Artist’s Way.

When we learn to value consistency, over completion, progress over perfection, process over outcome—this is when we start to experience these mini-mushroom, nuclear explosions of integration. If the success you crave is externally driven or has it’s foundation accomplishment, it will never give you what you’re hoping for. 

I always tell my students that they will learn so much more about themselves in just the daily commitment to a meditation practice. Possibly more than the meditative process itself. We learn important aspects of our habitual patterns—when we quit; our excuses; our priorities. Some of which are deeply confronting and can challenge the intention and emotion behind every decision we make. 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness
That most frightens us.

We ask ourselves
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.

Your playing small
Does not serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking
So that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine,
As children do.
We were born to make manifest
The glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us;
It's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we're liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

- Marianne Williamson

When these practices work. We start to evolve. This evolution requires a new version of us. Potentially more responsibility, more commitment and dedication. It may require us to be braver and bolder—terrifying for the Ego as we’re moving softly, subtly out of our safe zone and into the unknown.