Every time I’ve gotten to a place where my mind is intensely quiet and my connection to self feels stronger than usual, one very loud and clear message has come through: write more. It’s interesting — because there is no other singular message that has been as loud, as consistent, and as specific as this one. Just. Write. More. It isn’t as though this ‘voice’ comes with a set of instructions about what to write about, or why to write more (as Liz Gilbert says in her recent interview with Tim Ferriss: why is not a spiritual question). But it is interesting to me that this signal has been so constant in its clarity, potency. It didn’t matter how much I was writing, this inner voice simply wanted me to write even more. This much was clear.
Now, I know that one might read this and wonder (like I did), if maybe that instruction is a vestige of some high-achieving-never-satisfied-with-any-amount-of-work-I-do part of me that just wants me to keep doing more for the sake of doing more. But I am quite familiar with that voice, and this isn’t that. It is something more rich, more clear, more pure, perhaps even more tender? This voice isn’t trying to tell me that I am not doing enough, it is simply revealing how much more I have to give. The nudge isn’t about achievement, it’s about service. And that distinction is important.
That line has grown clearer, bolder, as I have grown more intimate with the parts of myself that want to be expressed — not for the sake of approval, credit, or notoriety — but because they want to be in service, offered to the world in abundance. As I have reflected more on why it is that I don’t publish as much as I could, there is one undeniable through-line. Sure, there’s the discipline component. I could just be putting more hours in, more dialled on bringing things to completion. But the real blocker I see is a deep part of me that is scared to be seen for my raw, honest thoughts. There is a part of me that wants to please everyone, make everyone feel included and understood with my words, tap into all of the potential resonance and connection with others that I possibly could. But this hyper-inclusion-bordering-on-self-censoring-tendency that I sometimes impose on myself takes precious time and energy away from what could be allocated to just writing more.
I sense that I am moving through some sort of threshold though. I’m beginning to care less if people approve of or agree with my thoughts, noticing I am less concerned with being misunderstood. I seem to have really arrived at this realization that all I can do, ultimately, is say what I mean. That is all I have ever intended to do, anyway. And if I do that well, it likely will repel some people and attract others.
In one of my last essays, I made an elaborate declaration that basically said: I won’t be making any statements that do not intrinsically arise from a desire to share them within myself. In other words: I won’t be writing to please others, or because I am scared to violate others’ expectations of me. Because who would want to follow an artist that is saying something just to please them—or someone else—anyway? I know I wouldn’t.
What I shared in that essay what was probably already implicitly clear most of my audience: that I didn’t want to talk about anything I didn’t feel intrinsically compelled to talk about. But actually saying it liberated something in me that I didn’t realize was trapped. And whatever was freed in that process feels undeniably connected to the voice that whispers to me to write more when my guard is down and my ego is weak. It reminded me that I want to write with more reckless abandon, not less. I want to write with more confidence, more decisiveness, more conviction. With less atunement to others and less inclination towards appeasing those outside of myself. I just want to write for myself, to share what wants (and needs) to get out of me, to leave it out in the world for anyone who is interested enough to peer in at it. This is, I think, the only way to create art honestly. Otherwise, if we stay stuck in our heads wondering about all of the ways our creations might be interpreted (or misinterpreted)—we would never publish anything. And who wins in that scenario? We all get a quieter, duller world with less interesting, and beautiful, stuff in it.
This is still a practice for me. I don’t imagine this shift to publishing anything and everything that I feel even the slightest inclination to write about will be instantaneous (though I am open to being surprised!), but I will be making a conscious effort to let what wants to come through me emerge, without imposing judgement or disappointment onto it proactively, keeping me from sharing what I want to express.
I hope you join me in this attempt to make more and care less. I really do want a world where the act of self-expression is celebrated, even if we don’t always agree with or resonate the outcome of it! A constrained, tense, and limited world is much less fun and interesting to exist in. A world bursting with soul, expression, and colour is worth sharing what makes you a little afraid or uncomfortable to be seen for. I also believe that underneath it all, we all feel very similar things but are scared to express those things for the same reasons. This comes back to one of my favourite quotes: that which is most personal is most universal. I couldn’t have possibly imagined that me sorting through my deepest inner thoughts and questions on the internet would have struck a chord of resonance with so many. But that is what has happened! We just don’t know what our expression will unlock until we have made The Thing. And then made another thing. And done our best to continue honouring that inner voice inside of us telling us to create more, write more, do more of whatever it is we have to give to the world. Because when we all refrain from sharing what we think, feel and see in our mind’s eye, we all end up feeling alone. And who wins when that’s the case?
“The moment that you feel that, just possibly, you are walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself — that’s the moment that you may be starting to get it right.” — Neil Gaiman
When you expose yourself to the world, you take a risk. In my experience, that risk is worth it; because it sends your signal out to the world to let others know that they are seen, too. You have something inside of you wanting to come out — an equivalent force inside of you to my “just write more” voice. Your work, like all of ours, is to unearth what that signal is saying and to listen to it, even if it’s a bit uncomfortable or edgy to do so. That is the work of an artist. To expose ourselves to the world and be willing to be seen, misunderstood, perceived one way or another, all for the sake of honest self-expression. For the sake of letting ourselves be seen, letting others feel resonance with our signal that would otherwise remain stifled inside of us, clawing at us from within. Don’t be afraid: listen to yourself, and share what feels true to you. As I’ve said in my now-pinned tweet, it’s wild how much abundance can be blocked by a mild fear of being seen. On that note, I will leave you with this Andy Warhol quote I come back to whenever I feel my Resistance start to win over my desire to create:
“Make art, and while everyone is deciding what they think of it, make more art.” — Andy Warhol
Related essays you might enjoy: don’t let your ideas rot, unblock your mind, to be creative, be where you are, becoming yourself is a process of reduction, comfort. Follow my daily thoughts on X/Twitter.
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