Billie Holiday has sung in my ears for days now… I sing back to her ghost, a tribute to the reluctant friend we both share.
Good morning heartache
Here we go again
Good morning heartache
You're the one
Who knows me well
Might as well get used to you
Hanging around
Good morning heartache
Sit down
Stop haunting me now
Can't shake you nohow
Just leave me alone
I've got those Monday blues
Straight to Sunday blues
Good morning heartache
Here we go again
Good morning heartache
You're the one
Who knows me well
Might as well get use to you
Hanging around
Good morning heartache
Sit down
There is a growing introversion in me that I have encountered these past few weeks. A very familiar propensity toward sadness, grief and spinning that I have been struggling to reconcile with the cadence of output I have set up over here. Does one share when they are right in the midst of the heartache? Or is that like digging up seeds to check for growth before they’ve had a chance to germinate and take root? Output in the midst of growth seasons that refuse to be rushed feels somehow unnatural and yet I can’t help but feel like I should be outputting. But right now I’m not sure how else to honour the season I’m in but to slow down and take note of what St Teresa of Avila says: “Patience achieves everything.”
My rush to put shapes to things at a time when they want to be shapeless seems to compromise their ability to take a form of their own. Ambiguity is so painful for me because it feels so pointless when it’s happening. It seemingly produces nothing, answers nothing and will not be urged toward a destination until I let go and trust the timing and spaciousness of a void.
It’s as though my heart were asking not to be witnessed in the wide spaces for a while. An invitation to greet heartache —thought we said goodbye last night? — and just learn to be around her. To find community offline as much as possible and take deep breaths that don’t need to summon any words to life. I’m starting lots of new song ideas right now but none of them seem to want to be finished. Am I lazy or listening?
My beautiful sister-in-law said to me last night as I told her how scared I was to turn up on my newsletter when I feel this way (what do I write about when I feel called to be quiet? Is the time for vulnerability always now?) and she said : Give what you want to be given.
Mic drop.
Well, I think I want a slower cadence of information I’m taking in. A slower cadence of information I’m sending out. I feel everything I engage with online has something to say to me or sell to me and I’m failing to be moved by much except the rawness of light from the lamps in my house, the snow outside, smile lines on friends faces and acceptance (when I can find it) for the sadness that doesn’t want to be summarized or explained beyond the simple fact that it’s there and not ready to leave.
I wonder if many artists feel their identity is wrapped up in what they have to say because they built a whole life and career and value system around that very thing. I wonder if everyone feels in some way that life is most meaningful when it has something clear to say or teach.
And yet. Ambiguity returns… often with nothing to say except, slow down.
When I talk to my friends they tell me that they find it quite hard to keep up with weekly emails and newsletters in their inbox — that they in fact too, could use a slower cadence for what they receive. I perhaps feel unsure about adding to a noise and pace I could personally use some respite from.
I will not stop turning up. I think it will have to be slower so I can tend to this relentless voice in my head that keeps telling me to do, do, do more. The exhaustion will serve no one and the intake of information we are all getting everyday is perhaps not even what is needed most right now.
Give what you want to be given.
Taking a leap here that maybe my calling toward a slower expression here will not only serve what my heart is needing but may be a small inspiration for you to also take the pressure off yourself in any areas of your life that are subconsciously telling you to be on and out there at all times too.
Imagine one area of your life where you could let go of the “I should”…
How would that feel?
Till next time,
My perspective is this.
The person that goes into a relationship isn't the person that arrives at the end. The growth that occurs - positive or otherwise - turns us into a new version of ourselves. One who will make different decisions, will relate differently to others and, creatively perhaps, one who has other things to say.
We are never fully formed so be creative whenever you want to, but it has to be driven by that creative urgency, not timetables or some kind of obligation.
I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how your newsletter found my email, I’ve only been on here three times in two years. But I’m so glad it did. You write beautifully. I felt every word in my bones. Thank you.