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These pushed me to the edge and over it this week. Maybe they’ll do the same for you. Hope so.

XO

https://www.banksy.co.uk/

https://www.richroll.com/podcast/steven-pressfield-584/

I’ve had an interesting few weeks.  It has been interesting to have some time off, some more free time, spare time, but nowhere to go.  This suits me just fine, but it was interesting to see how many internal toddler tantrums I had with the process during it.  Yes, I purposely said ‘interesting’ three, now four, times in a row there.  In medicine, the collective we tend to say ‘interesting’ when something is either not good or has us completely puzzled, i.e. we often say it when we are slightly miffed.

The weeks have been good without a doubt, but at times I felt very much, not good. 

The weeks have puzzled me. 

Interesting.

I want to share with you a few things that were said to me over these slowed down weeks:

“You ARE doing it”

“How are you holding up?”

“Tell me more”

“Throw it all to the wind”

“Surprise them”

“They’re great.  Sharp.  Like their mother”

“More than I think you realize for me”

“Be safe, Jenn”

“Good morning, my love”

All these utterances had different contexts.  They were all from different people.  Each of them stopped me in my tracks.

I can’t tell you the story of each, I couldn’t come close to doing them the service they deserve, but I’ve been wondering about what their common threads are.  I am not sure I am going to be able to articulate them here at all but let me try.

Back when I was musing about Mastery versus Perfection, I noted that there was still a 20% that I was still interested in reaching for.  Part of that 20% is more connection, the universally common desire, of course.  However, I don’t do awesome with friendship.  Something about not recognizing when it is desired, assuming I need more out of it than someone can give, assuming I can’t give what is needed for someone else, not understanding how to have intimacy in friendship but deeply desiring it, and so forth.  Some might say, I overthink things (ahem.)  As I said, I don’t do awesome.  But these weeks, I’ve been doing better.  Perhaps dear Covid, by mandating distance, has unexpectedly given me the gift of a little buffer and thus, a bridge, to tip toe back into this need.  Because, despite the perpetual wondering of what the hell I was doing, why do I even have social media, why do I put the additional pressure of writing on myself, and why must I share it etc. etc. my phone kept lighting up with message after message.  And they were genuine and beautiful.  So then, ok, fine, I surrendered, let’s just agree (me and myself) that we must be doing okay.  Carry on.

Another common thread was a bit of an understanding about what it is that I am meant to do here.  And when I had this realization, I literally meant, there, in that chair, morning after morning, seemingly doing nothing at all and often getting really frustrated with myself about it.  So many tantrums. “Just get up!” “At some point you actually have to do something!” “Why are your runs now happening at NOON?!”  My poor husband.  But that morning it occurred to me that what I have been doing here these last days, in fact these last eight months, is gathering my things.  Gathering my rituals, my talismans, my materials, my reinforcements, and my thoughts.  I’ve been practicing what I preach with such urgency, I’ve been getting to know myself, befriending, nurturing, falling in love.  I have known that part, in a way for a while now but what I hadn’t understood it that its purpose wasn’t just to help me, but others too.  Others mostly. 

My brother once said to me “I just want to be on stage!!” to which I immediately responded as if possessed, somewhat surprised to hear myself, “Not me, I just want to be backstage.”  What was equally surprising to me in that moment is that I also immediately understood that what I meant was not that I feared the stage, but that to me backstage was magic.  I don’t want to be the star; I want to write their lyrics.  This, I now better understand, is how I want to lead.  I want to be at home, under a blanket, understanding our vision and clearing the path while you go out there and do all the show stopping.  I picture you running on a vast mountain trail, shield on your back, sword in your hand and me, nimbly and secretly clearing rocks and twigs from where your feet may fall. Carry on.

So, it was a good three weeks, actually a really great three week. I do hope there is more in store.  For now though, I am grateful for better understanding and renewed gentleness.  I get that I have tears as a talisman.  I worship my beautiful den from which I can guide and way find.  And I know, at least for today, that what it is that I am doing is connecting me deeply to those who to do it too.

Ahh, full moons, I’ve come to realize that they are when the moods are deeper, the lyrics hit harder, and the tears are way closer to the surface.  For me, this is a great thing, ultimately.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved listening to music and daydreaming, tiny little stories to a beautiful soundtrack.  Usually about love, sometimes about a feat, every so often about an act of defiance.  Usually about love. 

As a kid, I would record songs off the radio onto a tape, endlessly trying to get the start and stop timing correct and mesh them all together.  Then I’d play the tape while falling asleep at night, dreaming my little dreams and trying to sort out events that happened and those I wished would.  Eventually, I would tire of the tape, the songs would have done what they needed to, all the stories would have been played out, and I’d set to making a new one. 

Twenty-five years later, I still do it.  Playlist after playlist, bringing moods to life.  Sneaking away to the bath, or a drive or a walk, to dance around in my mind a little and see what the melodies and lyrics can reveal.  Not escape, not at all, amplification, at least.  I run faster with music.  I glow brighter with music.  I don’t think I could write at all if it weren’t for music.  I often feel like its student. 

Most of the songs we love are ones that we can picture singing to someone else, I think.  Yelling, whispering, pleading.  Many other songs, of course, are ones we would love to be sung to us.  Many lovers have a song.  Is that not just the most wonderful thing?

One of my husband’s favourites is:

The other morning when I was heading off on a grey day to run in the damp, on a trail I wasn’t too thrilled about, I played this song.  I mused about if I had to pick one, I’d pick this one as ours.  And indeed, the tears streamed down my face. 

It was a great thing.

Because this one I hear being sung to me.  By the man whose heart is the most generous I’ve ever known.  I am a strong, opinionated, ambitious woman, but the thought of being fixed is still enchanting to me most moments of the day.  I don’t hear this song being sung to someone who is broken weak but to a person who is perhaps broken not yet knowing.  I hear it being sung by one who sees what the other does not or who sees what the other has forgotten.  Who sees that, with a little mending and a little tending, that the other is even more. 

Of course, there were and are things that needed and need fixing.  It’s a good thing. 

We saw this song live not too long ago, neither of us will ever forget it.  That was one of our favourite nights together.  My solo moment in the car that morning will be another favourite of mine.  The lights do guide us home.

Of course, it’s possible he sings it thinking I’m singing it to him.  Of course, the other night in the bath I sung it to all of you. Of course, it’s possible he just likes the song, eh?  Rad riff, bru.  Best build up ever, hey? Shut it honey. XO

Someone recently sent me a meme. It said: “Fear can show up as a perfectionist”. We were having a conversation about what I want. I said I had about 80% of what I wanted; thinking about my husband and kids, my career, my movement, my creativity, my time on, and my time off. It’s all rather beautiful. That never escapes me. Nonetheless, I reach for more. I know there’s still 20% out there that is dazzling and dizzying and all mine to grab.

Was the meme meant to imply that that reach was an attempt at perfection? And, thus, by extension, flawed? My conditioned response was to text back a “Hell, yes!” But the exchange sat in my mind for days. Neither the meme nor conversation felt freeing. I didn’t leave empowered; I left decidedly stifled.

The next day I ruminated on all the messaging out ‘there’ these days. By ‘there’ I mean this increasingly dumbass place where I seem to repeatedly scroll in hopes of inspiration and glee or, at the very least, solace, but in perpetuity leave empty handed, empty minded. It seems to tell us all to slow down, be kind to yourself, stop striving, be minimalist, be grateful, embody contentment, stop, slow, sit. Lord knows, I’ve uttered every single one of these decrees on these very pages and I often find my self robotically trying to soothe others around me with these pejorative head pats: there, there, dear one, just sit still, stop with that silly reach.

Jesus, what utter vomit.

What in the actual hell are we opening up and swallowing these days?

A few days later, while slogging hills in the woods, I listened to this:

I’ve listened to it twice since.

Drs Brown and Lewis offered these insightful definitions:

Perfection: an inhuman aim, motivated by a concern with how others view us

Mastery: commitment to constant pursuit, an endurance event, ever onward forward

Success: an event based trajectory based on a peak point

Dysfunctional persistence: repeating success after success whilst deadening the creative process

Grit: the ability to withstand distractions during a pursuit, over decades

They waxed poetic about how the trick of it all was to pursue your mastery with every ounce of grit that you had while protecting yourself from the talons of those that circle hawk-eyed around you. Those that want you to pursue success, perhaps so they can imbibe. Those that want you to focus on what they need from you and, never mind dear one, about all that other nonsense you are considering. Let that go, be kind to yourself, focus here. No, no, not there silly girl, here, here, on this thing over here.

A ha!

There’s why the meme convo felt like a punch in the stomach: my reach at mastery was being perceived as a fight for perfection.

Ya, no.

I couldn’t literally give two fucks about how others view me. I know that that’s the narrative that we’ve been trying to push down women’s throats for a while: we push and fight and strive and starve and run and bejewel because we want you to love us. Oh honestly, give me a break. No, we reach and strengthen and flex and seek and adorn because we don’t settle with 80%. We don’t care about success, neither ours and certainly not yours. We want that little piece of magic that you assume is out of reach. We have grit.

So what you perceive as burnout, as ‘overdoing it’, as sadness, is not the result of our tireless jaunt towards your castles of perfection. It’s not fatigue because we have been trying to do ‘it all’ and we should just understand that that is not possible, sit down, have a mug of tea and put on some fleece. No, it’s not that, it’s a twinge of resentment and a significant amount of displeasure that we let your talons dig in and pluck us from our march to mastery.

Please stop doing that.

You might consider, instead, joining us.

Because we are here to wayfind to our highest self and find power there. We may occasionally break stride and do your chores, you’ll know when we do, because the yearning and pacing will increase. But we will now get ourselves more swiftly back on track. There is now a new deal: you clean your room and we’ll take care of ours. Sometimes we’ll do it in stilettoes, sometimes on all fours, fuck it, maybe we will do it in fleece. Whatever. Point is, we’re going to focus on our work now. And, ya, we aren’t settling for good enough. We’ll stop when we reach glory and cosmos and things you’ve never even dared to think of. We’ll stop when we say so. And here’s the thing, we will never say so.