For accessibility and ease, you can listen to this blog post narrated by Mike:
Our genius has a sound, a melody, a rhythm.
I can hear it when I’m writing. Like a song. And all I need to do is get in flow with the rhythm. And the words just come to me—flow to me—like I’m remembering a tune.
Kind of like a conversation with a best friend. We’re just in the flow. And we don’t have to think about it. And we don’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. We don’t strain for what to say next. We don’t have to prove ourselves.
We just flow. With the natural rhythm.
We can feel pretty clearly when we’re in sync with the rhythm and when we’re not. When we’re flowing with our genius and when we’re not.
These past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about rhythm. You may have noticed that I haven’t been writing. The past two weeks, I’ve been traveling, getting really sick, and recovering from that sickness.
I’ve been out of rhythm.
I used to shame myself for how much travel took out of me. Like it shouldn’t be a big deal. People travel all the time. Why does it take me so much time to get back into my schedules, my routines, my rhythms?
Travel is an interesting thing. Because, by its nature, it pushes us out of rhythm. It pushes us into something new. New experiences, a new environment, maybe even a new sleep schedule or eating schedule or new time zone.
In the past, I’d have pushed myself to work while away. And pushed myself to work when I got home and came down with a terrible sickness. And cursed the sickness for getting in the way of the work I had to do.
But, this time, I saw the sickness for what it was—a call to get back to my own rhythms. That all sickness is just a manifestation of being out of sync with natural rhythms.
So I slowed down. I connected with the rhythms of my body—what my body most needed then. I slept more. I stopped getting up early. I slowed down work, including this blog. And I tuned in.
As I had strength, the first things I did was get back into the rhythms that make me feel like me. I exercised to the extent that I felt ready, even if I was coughing through half of it. I honored myself and didn’t push past where I felt I was at.
I built back up. Slowly. Honoring my body each step of the way.
And the first day I was able to finish my entire three-hour morning routine after three full days off, I actually had tears in my eyes. I felt like me again. I had never felt so grateful to remember my rhythms.
I wanted to rush back onto this blog. Instead, I paused and let myself ease back into my full schedule. Listening to my body. Listening to my desires. And finding the harmony once again.
Coincidentally—or not really—we’re exploring rituals that tune us into our own rhythms in the Sacred Immersion level. Things we do routinely that make us feel our genius.
Not for any specific result but to feel like ourselves. To galvanize our genius. And watch what happens when we’re consistently in sync.
Earlier this year, I made a promise to myself to take action from the place of my genius as much as possible. If I couldn’t access my genius, then I’d pause until I could find the rhythm again. Instead of pushing myself and burning myself out to do something that comes easily and naturally to me.
I thought about this yesterday as I listened to an orchestra play a celebration of Mozart. If one violinist missed a few notes, they probably wouldn’t obsessively keep pushing through every note on the sheet in contrast to everyone else; they’d listen to get back in flow with the music.
We only have to listen, and we can find our way back to the flow—the flow of our genius.
And the crazy thing is—we know exactly what it’s like to be in the flow. When we’re in the flow, it really is like we can hear music. Paintings just come through us. Words just fly out of our mouths. Movement happens intuitively. We forget to be so insecure.
A life in flow is one that’s effortless and abundant. Because we’re just being ourselves.
That’s all that flow really means. Being ourselves. Who we truly are. Tapping into our birthright. Our innate talents. Our genius.
There’s a rhythm to that genius. A stamp. A signature.
We call it a ‘unique genius’ for a reason. Because every single person, every visionary, has one. And it’s unique to them. With its own sound. Its own flow.
And we can spend our entire lives super self-conscious of how our bodies are awkwardly moving. Or we can simply listen to the music and let our bodies move as the music tells us to move.
We don’t have to strive or struggle so hard. We don’t have to push ourselves when we’re not feeling well. And we don’t have to blindly press forward.
There’s already a rhythm at play. It’s been there our whole lives. And we only have to listen and find it. Get back in touch with it.
It’s why we see our genius in our moments of trauma and elation and every moment in between. Because it’s always there in our lives. The music’s always been playing. We’re just not always listening closely enough to hear it.
If I hear a beat first thing in the morning, and I keep tapping my feet to it, I probably won’t lose it all day.
If I get up and start doing rituals or routines that make me feel my genius first thing in the morning, I’m a lot less likely to fall out of that flow later on, no matter how stressful things get.
We just have to find the beat. Connect back in with our natural rhythms. And keep dancing to our genius.
And that right there is the dance of miracles.
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 do you get into the flow of your genius?
— Do you ever notice how sometimes genius just flows out of you—like when you’re having a conversation with a best friend, and you don’t feel awkward at all? And others times it feels like you have to strive and struggle to access the same wisdom?
— Do you notice that some things just make you feel more clear-headed or like yourself again—like going for a walk, meditating, or watching a really funny TV show? Do you feel like one quick phone call with a friend can somehow make you inspired to clean your house or finally write that blog post you’ve been putting off?
— What if your main productivity challenge isn’t that you’re lazy, but simply that you’re not actually in the flow of your genius? What if sometimes you have to slow down and find that rhythm again before you can actually take action? What if all you did were rituals that made you feel your genius, and you were shocked at the visions you created in the world?