Alright, i admit it. I read my horoscope.
Is that so wrong? I haven't thought about it enough to say that astrology is a hoax through and through, though I see why people argue that it is. (Hi Craig!) I see it more as our meaning-starved nature seeking out some solace in an unknowable divine order. And whatever helps ya get through the day, ya know?
So I looked at my horoscope in March. This was a month that was financially tough, so when my horoscope said that the seeds I planted now would bloom in September, I figured they were money seeds. I assumed my fall-blossoming had to do with money because everything in my life was centered around my money fears. My worth was about money. My ability to have a family some day was about money. The strength of my leadership was about money. My rubric for "Am I failing or succeeding?" was about, correct, money.
And here's the truth of it: I did financially turn things around. I took the veiny, muscly, arms of my spirit and I coerced, shoved, yanked and pummeled financial security out of the universe. I took on more gigs than I actually can even remember. I showed up everywhere, for everyone, all the time, in the holy name of: money.
Fast forward a mere three months and I all but burned out. Not new to me, btw. This is one of my favorite and saddest calling cards:
Courtney Romano, Perpetual Burner Outer. Available 24/7.
So I decided that after a few big projects wrapping up in the middle of June, I'd take the summer off. In this case, time off simply meant not taking on any new project or following any 'great new idea' I had down its rabbit hole. It meant no extraneous light bulb moments, no collaborations, no coaching. Just introspection, more attention to my marriage and the regular to-dos that had to get done no matter what.
And in that time, the seeds I had planted surely did begin to take root, though not in the way I expected. I started seeing my money hustle as a lesson I had already learned*:
The money hustle wasn't the place from which dramatic abundance would spring forth. It was a liar, promising me control I never had, a thief of time and a sneaky SOB.
In my hiatus, I was drawn inward. And what I found was that the money hustle wasn't at all about my creative strengths. It was about treading a well-worn path in the name of control, illusions and moolah.
The scary and true thing is that when we follow our own light, there ain't a path to be found. It's a walk we gotta walk on our own.
And about that light... It's my opinion that I'm a vessel. A current through which the intelligence and love of the universe can go on with its bad self. We don't have to be geniuses to do genius work. We have to be open. I wish I had evidence of this realization to show you, but I'm not sure I do. I meditate every morning, I watch my inner self-talk, I try to be in service, and those things open me. And in all those actions, I feel something larger than me working through me.
My only evidence is an internal feeling. I'm working on a large writing project right now, and
When I write, my ego leaves the room. What's left is me and something divine. A spark of inspiration that came outta nowhere. A hunch that tells me the answer will come. A clue that suggests I'm on the right path. The work comes through me; it's not of me.
I've heard Elizabeth Gilbert say something about this. She says we have to collaborate with the divine (I'm not sure that's how she said it, but that's how I remember it.) That we are collaborating with the spark. We have to be willing to show up. We have to be willing to put in the hours. We will become more of a conduit the more we commit to the path, and as we become a more obvious pathway for the universe, god, inspiration, etc., the energetic juice will flow.
So there's gonna be a shift on this blog. There's gonna be shift in my work, because as much as I wanted to serve my audience this past spring, I was coming from fear. I'd like to come from love instead.
I'd like to collaborate with the divine. I'd like to give up the control ghost. I know my fear will push back. But I want to find that solid ground on which to plant my feet and sing out what's true, without knowing how it might all pan out.
So I wonder this about your work:
- When you're good and quiet, are your decisions made from fear or love?
- How much farther are you truly getting when you're manhandling your circumstances?
- Is your instinct swallowed up by fear of missing out?
- Do you believe that if you followed your gut, the universe would support that gutsy move? (Pun very much intended.)
- Do you think it's possible the solid ground of your inner spirit could be the defining moment of your career?
- Do you really know what's coming?
They're interesting questions to me because they're not:
- How much money can I make in Q4?
- How many Instagram followers do I have?
- What's the code I can crack to really bust open my business and career?
- What can I optimize?
The first set of questions creates an endless amount of possibilities for our work and the second set suggests there's a very narrow answer we have to fight to find. And if we are artists and creatives, we dwell in possibility. We dwell in questions. We dwell in the less coherent spaces of vision and light and wonder.
Cause if we don't, who's gonna?
Leave me a comment and let me know what you think. Which set of questions are you drawn to more?
*Page 143, The First Ten Years