I don’t know about you, but I love this time of year.
I am a big nature nerd, and I love all of the different shade of green - they make me feel alive.
I love the blossom (even through it makes me sneeze), I love the lambs, and the birds singing (even when they wake me up at the crack of dawn). I love it all; the resurgence of energy, the world coming back to life after the slowdown of winter.
I love the leaves growing, I love watching the trees fill out from their skeletal forms, until they bounce with life again. I love the grass starting to grow and the flowers starting to bloom.
I love the enormous bumble bees, who, not knowing that aerodynamically, they shouldn’t be able to fly, wander around amiably bumping into things.
And every year, I conveniently forget that in order for nature to be able to put such a surge of effort into this massive, rapid, glorious expansion, it has to have rested first. It has to have slept, and regained its vitality. It has to have slowed right down, so that it can speed right up.
And apparently, it’s not the only one who needs to do that.
Last year, I came to a screeching halt. For years, I’d been making massive strides forward both professionally and personally, and then it all stopped. It was as if I’d run full pelt into a brick wall.
I was frustrated. I was furious. I was sad and I was stuck. And I didn’t like it, oh no, not one little bit. Especially when I realised that even after all the self-transforming and transmuting, I was still (somewhere, deep down) measuring my worthiness through the lens of productivity.
So I sat, for nearly a year, at a standstill. For the first time in my life, I had literally no idea which way to go. I didn’t have a list. I didn’t have a plan. I couldn’t DO anything.
I had to just BE.
I knew that it was burnout, but I didn’t understand why. I am vigilant about protecting my health. I am militant about what I allow into my energy field. And yet, there I was, stuck. Rooted in place. Waiting. But with no idea for what.
Just like the seasons of the year, it appears that I have seasons too. I had to stop, exactly like nature does every single year, in order to recalibrate - so that I could move on to what was next.
I’d love to tell you that in order to process this pause, I wafted delicately around my immaculate house in beige silk pyjama bottoms and cream linen tops, rearranging things blissfully to the calming sound of wind chimes. I’d be delighted to be able to say that I ate only healthy food, and took care of my body, mind and spirit, whilst patiently waiting for The Universe to reveal itself to me.
But that would be an outright lie - because I was seriously pissed off about the whole thing.
I didn’t know what to do, so I took inspiration from nature. I pruned. I cut away what wasn’t working - so that what was could grow through, without being choked by the weeds. Day after day, I sat at my laptop and culled what I knew I didn’t want any more. Eventually, I’d got rid of a significant percentage of the previous seven years’ work; 118 Gigs of content in all.
It was a relief. But it wasn’t the answer.
So I looked at what I had actually wanted to keep - and I organised it. I slowed down, thought about where it needed to be filed - to make life easier for myself going forward. And I moved everything around, until I knew where it was and I was happy with the logic of how to find it quickly - and without too many rude words.
Because when I first got this laptop, I was in a rush to get things done, so I’d figured I’d get round to organising stuff. Eventually. But then I was so busy flying through changing things and creating things that I never did. When I started cleaning it up, I found a lot of duplicated work. But I also found a lot of good stuff that I’d completely forgotten about.
So I pared things down, and cleaned things up.
It felt less constricting, but I was still stuck.
I’m very lucky. I have good friends and a family that supports me. They let me fumble around, unhindered by expectations. They listened to me as I whinged about not knowing what to do. They guided me gently back to myself when I got lost.
My cherished Mastermind partner listened to me patiently, as I processed whatever was going on in my mind.
Friends held my hand as I muttered darkly.
Eventually, my long-time business partner and Very Good Friend suggested that I should make a list of what I’d actually created for TMMP, y’know, before I threw it all away (because that was my next step, to burn it all down and start again. Yet again). Perhaps, she proposed, it might be a good thing to look at what I’d done in its totality? If nothing else, then I’d be able to clearly see what could be repurposed and what could not.
So I did exactly that. And through doing it, I realised that the problem was not the work.
The problem was me.
I’d been trying to heal the world, rather than simply sharing the tools that I’d created with the world - so that, if it wanted to, it could use them to heal itself. I’d like to say it was just me being gormless (not the first time, tbh). But I’m pretty sure there was a cheeky hint of arrogance in there too. Let’s face it, control-freakery is one of my strengths.
So in February this year, I made a plan. I took what I’d done and I reorganised it, so it’s easier to use. It’s much more accessible, and I’ve added to it too. The new thing that I’ve made isn’t quite ready yet, but I’m ridiculously excited about it. It has helped me see my work, myself and my life through totally new eyes.
The people who helped me develop it are seeing themselves anew too.
Part of the ‘new eyes’ thing was a realisation that without my hiatus, I’d never have been able to do this. I’d never have taken the time to look at what wasn’t working for me. I’d have just carried on, half doing what I wanted to do. Exhausting myself further. Partly creating the change that I desired to create. Nearly getting to the destination I was aiming at. But not quite getting the results I knew that I could.
There’s definitely a time for taking massive, imperfect action. Which is exactly what I did, three years ago when I first came up with The Magnificent Me Project.
But, like the Lotus, there’s also a season for letting your roots grow deeper, quietly, below the muddy water, and only showing your glory to the world when you feel solid enough to survive whatever it might throw at you.
Even if that’s simply ‘Getting everything you’ve ever wanted’.
The deeper your roots, the taller you can grow (and not fall over). That’s just Physics, baby.
Flowers aren’t in competition with each other. They do what they do best - grow. They don’t show their true potential to the world until the conditions are right. They can’t. It’s just not possible.
Are we really so very different?
Love,
Alli
P.S The process I went through to get where I am now was what I based The Joy Edit on. The pruning of parts that didn’t fit any more, so I could shape what I wanted out of the ether.
If you’d like to get The Joy Edit at a massive 95% off, then click the Subscribe button, and you’ll be sent a Welcome email with your Super Secret discounted link.
P.P.S if you already know what you want, and you’re ready to put down some Roots, so that you can grow taller, then take a look at Safe & Sound - A Modern Day User Manual for your Root Chakra.
P.P.P.S If you’ve already signed up for The Joy Edit, make sure that you check out the last module <looks mysterious>.