When Life Asks You To Navigate in Unfamiliar, Undesired Territory
How to walk a scary path and be radically honest with yourself
Since 2009, an aspect of my creative practice has revolved around Twitter.
I know, I know. What a shithole platform, right?
Sure, that’s one perspective. But today let me offer you another.
Yes, one interacting with Twitter needs a discerning eye. And the ability to look away.
But seeing Twitter as ONLY a shitshow is a choice. Personally, Twitter helped me find my voice, share my joy, and connect with beautiful people.
I am a better person because of my Twitter experience.
AND. *clears throat*
I saw a hard truth recently. One that I can’t unsee.
Turns out, I am addicted to Twitter. A shock to no one (other than me, I’m sure.)
So here I am, staring down a metaphorical line in the sand.
On one side, the person I am.
On the other, the person my soul is calling me to be.
Now that I see it, I feel so uncomfortable.
I’ve decided to take a major break, 100 days to be exact.
I find myself in new territory and more than a little unsure how to navigate. Oddly enough, many of my nearest and dearest have also recently found themselves staring down their own unique metaphorical line in the sand. Many didn’t come to this line by choice. Frankly, some have been shoved across a line and are now struggling to find their next breath with a throat full of sand.
I’ve been in new territory before and not by choice. The change I speak of now, my 100 day fast, is real and it can (for the most part and thus far) be met with humor and excitement.
Many of the experiences my loved ones are walking through have a far more serious energy.
It’s now Day 4 for me, and my ego has had a LOT to say about how I should navigate. But given my previous, more difficult experiences, I was able to see that what I really needed was slow, meditative days filled with permission to rest and feel what I was feeling and take lots of deep breaths. This moving meditation allowed for this guidance to come through late last night:
Your only job right now is to be as honest with yourself as possible.
Being honest requires presence. Presence is not easy, especially when we’d do anything, give ANYTHING, to go back to the other side of the line.
So, how do we navigate these new lands? How do we breathe with a windpipe full of sand?
We are as honest and present with ourselves as we can possibly be in any given moment.
We remember that honesty is always found in our bodies, and our bodies are constantly talking to us and telling us what they need. We remember that if we ignore the more subtle clues our bodies give us, they can and will force us to listen.
We remember how to say, “yeah, that’s not going to work for me.” To ourselves and to others.
We notice when our thoughts turn to judgment and remember the Best Friend Test. If your bestie was in your circumstances, is this how you would talk to her?
We remember that the world may be in a rush for us to do, say, or show up differently and we remember that this is OUR precious life and sometimes the world can fuck the fuck off.
We rely on our creative practices and our people.
We give space to the grieving process and to our grief.
We trust that the thing we need most in every Now moment IS the best thing for us. (We don’t judge what The Thing is.)
With so many of us navigating new spaces, new places, some by choice, some not even close, let’s keep helping each other remember. Let’s keep reminding ourselves and others to sink into deep, deep kindness, a kindness many of us haven’t experienced but we can choose to offer ourselves.
To the people in my life who have found themselves in new spaces and places, I see you. I know this can’t take away the pain and uncertainty, but I promise you this: I’ll keep walking beside you.
I know you’ll do the same for me.
FRIENDS, if this message helps you, please share, subscribe, like, comment, etc. I’m taking this break to heal my bad habits around social media. But I miss the connection, and hope this can continue here in this space. My messages aren’t for everyone … but as the kids say .. IYKYK. I’d love to find some community here with you, too.