I’ve been writing for a while now. Pretty much every weekday for coming on five years. It’s kind of remarkable to think that. I mean, I’ve written over 1,000 blog posts.
For those of you who were here from the beginning and remember, I started writing every weekday because I wanted to write when I had something to say, but more importantly when I didn’t. The writing was for me. To find my voice. To find my enough-ness. To see parts of myself that can only rise up once the well of processed thoughts has dried up. And I have to just show up as I am that day. And process along with you. In 20 or 30 minutes.
It was for me, but I invited you along with me. Because, to me, vulnerability is the transmutation of shame with a witness. And a witness is always necessary because they stand in for the ‘other’—the society—that co-created shame in the first place.
I’ve talked about this a lot. That shame is contextual. Like if it’s shameful to share that you’re psychic or marry a man or embrace your sexuality. That’s all conditioned by the context of your life—the norms and mores of society, culture, and upbringing.
So we need a witness to transmute it in the first place. Otherwise, it’s escapism. Healing avoidant of its original context.
So I wrote. I wrote when times were really, really good. I wrote when times weren’t so good. I even wrote when I was scared to be that vulnerable.
Hell, this blog was one of the first places I told the world about my relationship with Garrett. Or about my engagement. Or that I was getting married. And it was one of the firs places I told publicly about just how intuitive and spiritual my work really was. And how I channel Master Energies and play with pendulums and all kinds of fun things.
It was a place where I got to find me. And figure out what that means. It’s something I’m still figuring out. And will until the day I die.
People ask me about blogging all the time. And I laugh. Because most people think it’s a really great marketing tool. And maybe it is for some. But, in my experience, it’s a long game. If you’re desperate for money or clients (the people who ask me usually are), it’s not necessarily the best venue for you. It’s a long game. It’s building relationships with people. It’s testing out ideas and messaging. Sorting out thoughts that might one day end up in a book or a course or a program. It’s your playground. Where you just get to be yourself.
Great for ROI? Probably not. But I wouldn’t give it up for anything.
My therapist often talks about his model of therapy in which his intention is that clients begin to internalize the dynamic of therapy to become an internal reflective voice. So they begin to be able to talk to themselves and counsel themselves in the same way both the client and therapist do in a session.
I think about that a lot about this blog. In many ways, it has given me that reflective voice in my daily life. I remember maybe six months into writing, I was being interviewed about it, and I said that it totally changed my life because it forced me to have a kind of meditative mind. I had to both simultaneously be the writer, showing my own subjectivity, and also the reader who’s watching over nonjudgmentally.
It’s rare to take a pause like this—at least for me. To look at the bigger picture of the medium you’re working on. I don’t often think of how I’ve evolved and changed. In fact, I often way underestimate it. That’s why I love writing. It captures energy in time.
I look back to maybe two or three years ago on this blog, and I’m amazed at how I’ve changed. I’m amazed at how much fear or anxiety I don’t have today. I’m amazed at how much my business, my relationship, my friendships are exactly what I want them to.
I remember when I had no idea what I wanted to do in my business. And then I had no idea how to package it up. And then I had no idea how to get it to people. Or make it sustainable. And all of the angst that went with that.
And it feels like I’m doing it. I’m really sharing my work—my Soul—in full integrity. The exact way that I want to.
I love that in the Mastermind, we get to meet small-batch artists from all over the world and really get to know them to create custom gifts for each participant. I love that Sherri and I sometimes have four hour meetings that have seemingly nothing to do with business, but are rather analyses of movies or TV shows or books.
I love that I get to be me. And I give myself permission to have a voice. And share it with the world. But, first and foremost, with myself.
If there’s one wish I could have for everyone in the world, it’d be to hear your only voice. To truly, truly hear your own voice. Because it is beautiful.
And it’s the mark that’s only yours.
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