Most days I have no fucking idea what to write about.
I don’t plan ahead. I don’t map out my posts. I don’t batch and write extra when I feel inspired.
I just write one post per day. Every weekday. For about five and a half years now.
It’s not necessarily the best way to get great content. And, inevitably, some days I write something subpar. And some days I don’t even feel like writing. But it doesn’t really matter.
Because I get up and write. And, if it sucks, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just write again the next day.
The emotional impact of a single action is a hell of a lot lessened when we do it routinely.
I didn’t start this blog primarily to share content. Or to build a business (I didn’t have one right when I started). Or even to support and inspire people.
Of course, all of those things matter to me. But I did it first and foremost as a personal practice—to write when I had something to say, but, more importantly, when I didn’t.
Was I good enough? Was I valuable? Was I genius in any way?
And the only way I could explore those questions was to show up. In fact, showing up is all I’ve ever done.
I show up, rain or shine. On good days and bad days. When I’m sick. When I’m tired. When the words aren’t coming out quite right. When I’m positive the post sucks.
I just show up. That’s all I’m committed to doing. I’m not committed to being perfect or sharing the most brilliant thing in the world every day. I have no way of controlling that—even less of how people perceive it.
But I can control showing up. So I do.
Just like I show up for my morning routine every morning, whether I want to or not. Just like I show up for time to connect with Garrett and my dogs every evening. Just like I show up for every Sacred Circle and Sacred Mastermind call.
I show up.
I’m always amazed at how much I think I don’t want to exercise in the morning. But I show up and just start. And the moment I start, I’m in it. I’m already doing it. And I love it.
It’s like I’m in the flow and it just takes over. And I look back at the end of my workout and wonder how I finished the entire thing when I thought I didn’t even want to do it.
And then I remember I showed up.
I’ve lately been writing another book (I fully acknowledge this is the first time I’m declaring it publicly—which means it’s kind of real now). And I’m blown away at the resistance I have to writing it.
I mean, I can get up here every weekday with no plan and just go with it. But a book?! It’s so much more official and long-form and terrifying.
I’ll do just about any task to avoid writing.
So I started paying attention to my to-do list. I noticed I was adding “Write at least 1,000 words today” on it. And it felt daunting.
So I changed it to just “Show up and write however much you want.”
That day I wrote 2,000 words.
And, sure, some days, I write a lot less. But I realized that my job isn’t to accomplish much of anything. It’s just to show up.
It’s just to gift myself time and space to do what I care about. That’s it. And then it’s like a momentum just carries you. Your vision begins to pull you forward without you having to consciously think about it at all.
You showed up. You started. And it’s happening.
It’s kind of like anything—reading a book or watching a TV show or cooking dinner. You just show up and start. And then you’re in it. And, without really thinking about it, it happened.
But momentum can only come when we show up and start.
There are so many things in life that I told myself I’m not ready for. That I couldn’t do. That felt daunting and overwhelming.
And the very few I got myself to start, I almost always finished. Even if it was hell. Even if it took me way longer than I thought. Or came out way worse. Or had to be modified. I still finished.
Because I committed. I just made a decision that I was going to do this. Even if I didn’t know how or what or when. I just started.
The thing about journeys is they have their own intelligence. I’ve never been on a road trip that went exactly to plan. Hell, I’ve never been on any trip, for that matter, that went exactly to plan.
Detours and challenges came up all of the place. And I had to adapt and adjust. And it never looked like I expected it to. But I was already on the journey. I had already made a decision to show up and started.
So I started. And I had to surrender to the intelligence of the journey. My own odyssey. It has its own momentum that just carries you forward.
And then we end up traveling so much further than we ever thought possible. And we dig deeper into ourselves than we knew was there.
And we see that we are good enough. We are valuable. We are genius.
Even—and maybe especially—on days when we don’t feel so.
But the only way to ever see it is to show up. For something. Anything.
When we show up for a best friend’s crisis, we don’t need to know how to help them. All we need to do is be there. Show up. And our support might just be a hug or a smile that day. But we’ll see how much that genius changes everything.
Show up for your vision, visionary. Show up. You don’t have to know how or why or when. You just have to show up.
And the magic of your vision will pull you on the craziest journey of your life.
The one that leads to your genius.
Questions for Reflection:
*Answer in a journal, in the comments right here, or take it over to the Sacred Branding® Facebook group where we can support one another:
How can you start creating that big vision?
— Do you feel overwhelmed and intimidated by the giant, daunting visions you have? Do you have big goals but no idea how to make them into a reality?
— Do you feel like your small efforts aren’t making a big enough effect? Do you ever feel frustrated that you can’t get yourself to take bigger action or stay committed to your dreams?
— What if all you had to do was show up? What if showing up every day—even in small efforts—creates giant compound interest over just a few years? What if the only thing you have to do to pursue your vision and show up for it again and again, and let your genius naturally do the rest?