I love big, important questions: What’s it all about? Why am I here? What is the shape and color of what I’m supposed to be giving, sharing, doing? How shall I spend these precious moments?
Living in America in a time of vast cultural and economic wealth, there’s a downside of too many choices. Like 500 varieties of shampoo at the store, I sometimes face my options. And go numb.
As a multi-creative plate-spinner, I can be paralyzed by choice. A year ago I longed to find a ‘container’ that could carry the full range of what I love: spirit work, singing, writing, drawing, video, dance. I decided to teach what I’ve learned navigating the inner realm, and to serve the Spark within us all.
The many forms of communication and expression I’ve cultivated do serve in this way, to reach people on many different levels. However, a new teaching practice (business) requires vast amounts of energy. Creating, planning, scheduling, networking, teaching, marketing, speaking, etc.
Some days, it’s fine. Other days, I notice what I’ve given up: growing and tending my own creative children. And soon I’m in the Land of Exhausting Questions:
Why am I doing this, and not creating? Shouldn’t I just write real songs, collaborate, start a singing career, in midlife? Work on that multimedia graphic e-book I started last year? Finish Book II of my fantasy series, Twins of Tessar? What about that paranormal memoir, still in first draft? And that blog series combining episodes of my story with useful tools, a book done by the end of the year?
Questioning. Overwhelmed. Stuck.
It’s a familiar feeling. An addiction, perhaps. One that keeps me stalled, and safe.
At the heart of it, is my adorable little ego’s desire to know the ‘Right’ answer. To not make mistakes. To avoid painful detours and back alleys. To be certain.
But to be human, and creating, is not about certainty. It’s about remaining open, flexible, fluid, and MOVING. Even if you’re sitting still.
What can I do about this old pattern? I can notice it arriving like a familiar friend, and say, “Thank you. I hear you. But all these questions are simply not helpful. I’m listening to my Spark now.”
I can cultivate ways to stay in the Right Here Right Now. Breathe. Express what’s there, then shake it off. Allow my body and the moment and the calling of my deepest, most joyful desires, to lead me toward the next step.
Tell me: do you ever get lost in a deep dark forest of questions? What do you do when your options become overwhelming?