KILL THE VOICE INSIDE YOUR HEAD. DO THE WORK ANYWAY
I wanted to write a post for you just now about how to catch an idea by its tail, take action on it right away before it knows what’s hit it, bring that shit to LIFE!
But the post felt boring and mundane and meh, and so I cast it aside; it wasn’t good enough which is to say that maybe it’s ME that’s not good enough today.
I thought then that perhaps I’d write a post about when you feel like you’re really boring and nobody wants to listen to you and you should just shut the fuck UP with your repetitive hoo-ha, but the post was coming through me starting with the sentence “sometimes I feel like I’m so boring”, and clearly I couldn’t write THAT since I already began a post just yesterday with the sentiment “sometimes I feel like I’m not a proper Mum”, and people would think I’ve got nothing else in my wordsmith arsenal except woe-is-me expressions of sometimes I feel.
So, there goes that idea, not good enough, too same-same, and maybe it’s ME who is not good enough and too same-same, and perhaps I already just used all my creative talent for the minute up on my livestreams?
I sat here for a moment and I stared with deep intensity at my tumeric shot and my triple-espresso long black, so intensely that the barista started to give me that ‘we got a live crazy one right here’ sort of sideways look, but I refused to look at him, I refused! I felt it though … but I furrowed my brow all the more intently AND intensively (take that!) anyway and I WAITED FOR THE DIVINE DOWNLOAD OF WISDOM TO HIT ME.
I got nothing … nothing except the above hum-drum, anyway, and then I realised, WELL –
Obviously I’ve left it too late in the day to write my blog! It’s 2.10 in the afternoon, for fucks sakes! EVERYBODY KNOWS THE MUSE ONLY VISITS IN THE MORNING! Bastard.
But then I remembered how once upon a time I never had anything to say, nothing at all.
And I dreamed of being a writer, and making money for my writing, and I KNEW it was meant to be.
But it just didn’t happen, somehow time kept passing, and it just KEPT not happening!
And so after long enough of THAT, it occurred to me – I wonder what WOULD happen, if I just start announcing to people that I’m a writer. You know, when they ask you at parties and the like what you do? Well what I HAD been doing at the time was personal training. But I made a decision, long before I ever heard of identity work or the law of attraction or manifestation, but perhaps I’ve just forgotten.
And the decision was to say “I’m a writer”, whenever anybody asked. Soon enough they DID … and then I SAID it … and inevitably they’d start asking what I WROTE, which presented a bit of a short-term problem as I hemmed and hawed, but because I like other people’s validation, let’s face it, I soon enough made sure I was able to give an actual real answer. And point to actual real places I’d been published, like fitness magazines, and then soon enough my own blog.
And then one day, I’m not sure how long after all of this it was, I remember waking up and remembering – huh! Remember when I decided to start SAYING I’m a writer … and then I DID start saying it … and now I AM, and I’m ACTUALLY GETTING PAID FOR THIS SHIT!
Funnily enough, somewhere in the midst of all that I DID in fact start writing, and funnier still I did it WITHOUT the fucking muse. There’s a line in a book, a Steven Pressfield book (of course!) which speaks about the ‘truth’ of how the muse only ever visits when it wants, and the writer says how convenient it is that the muse DOES in fact by coincidence then happen to visit him each morning at 9am when he gets his ass in the chair and decides to do the thing.
I’ve noticed the same thing, in my travels …
And seeing as how I was already IN the damn chair, AM in the damn chair, and seeing as how I DO IN FACT believe all the stuff I spout, no matter how same-same it is … and I hope that it IS, otherwise it’d seem like I don’t in fact know my own message! … I decided to square up and do the damn thing.
Even though I had nothing to say.
I still don’t.
Sometimes I feel like I NEVER actually have anything to say, and see what I did THERE?!
But yet here I am.
Somehow.
Apparently.
Day after day.
Ass in the chair.
And I do the damn thing.
Sometimes it’s gold.
Sometimes it’s not.
So the fuck what? Either way I showed up, I messaged, I shared, I let the God damn message BE its SELF and got out of my own way, pride down, enough to allow that no matter how much I might wish for it to be fancier, more whole, more ‘divine’, whatever THAT means.
It’s funny to me how few people really get that having everything you want is the easiest thing in the WORLD.
All you gotta do is the God damn thing you know you’re meant to do.
No matter what.
Err’day.
Till you die.
Not a single successful person you encounter will tell you they got there via consistency based on WHEN THEY FELT LIKE IT OR KNEW HOW. What they’re gonna TELL you is that they got there because they decided it was just how it was going to BE –
And then showed up.
That’s it.
Period.
The end.
Quit trying to be so damn GOOD, and just show us what you’ve got today.
Show up as best as you can.
Kill the narky voice in your head dead if need be.
And do the fucking work.
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