S for Shifting

On living a devoted life from A to Z

Photo by Ivan Dostál on Unsplash

It’s been two months since my last post on Substack. My desire to publish here is waning. I’m reading less articles (and paying attention to Megan Youngmee and FarStellar only). I’ve also stopped scrolling through Note. Something feels off about this platform, but I can’t put my finger on it or name it.

On the other hand, I’ve been writing and doodling more in private, pouring ideas and thoughts out on notebooks like channelling. I’m also returning to reading paper books, about five to ten pages each day. And once a day, I go to social media to check out posts and threads created by a selective few.

Not much has been achieved or can be shared yet regarding all the things I’m committed to doing this year. I thought I’d be charging forth in full speed and kicking a goal or two by now. Instead, an instinctual part of me is deciding to take things slowly. As if my body is reminding me of Aesop’s The Tortoise and the Hare that slow and steady wins the race.

In the past – even as recent as six months ago – I’d have freaked out about falling behind and judged myself unproductive and not good enough. Then I’d frantically sign up for another course or workshop as an attempt to fix my perceived inefficiency and incompetence. Eventually, I’d end up feeling paralysed and exhausted by the overconsumption of so-called new knowledge.

Now? I’ve learned to trust when my internal GPS directs me toward slowness and spaciousness. I’m okay with the seemingly lack of progress and outcomes. I release my concerns about how I may look to other people and the world anymore. When I turn my gaze inward, I’d often find I already have what I need to take the next step.

The world we know is shifting faster than most of us can process. Since 2020, the signs and signals have been getting louder – systems under unprecedented pressure, political, social and cultural divisions widening, the ground beneath familiar structures fracturing. Both systems thinkers and astrologers speak of this decade as a threshold moment in human history: the dissolution of the old overlapping with the initiation of something new. Perhaps it’s in this context that I find myself pulling back and going slower than usual.

Watching local and global events unfold, I start asking deeper, harder questions: What’s the point of life? Why do I do what I do? What is necessary? What do I truly want? What is my dream and intention? How do I want to experience my life, however long I’ve got left? What makes my heart sing? What is my unique contribution to the evolution of humanity?

I’ve come to realise all the things I’ve quit over the past few years are no coincidence. My experience with burnout and chronic illnesses was really the soul’s call to come home. Back to the physical body. Back to tending the wounded inner child. Back to the embrace of Mother Earth.

I was asked to stop doing the same thing repeatedly and expect different results. My animal body showed me the fragility and finiteness of life. That nothing lasts forever. That more growth isn’t always better (like cancer cells). That I must sift out the external noise and distraction and return to what’s true and essential: relationships. How to relate to everyone and everything, without losing myself in the process.

What’s been occupying my mind lately is my relationship with writing. It’s the first thing I dreamed of doing for a living as an 8-year-old. It’s also the first dream I gave up because I was told it’s unrealistic. I remember how heartbroken I felt as I tucked this dream away, out of sight from my psyche. It wasn’t until May 2022 when I went digging to piece this shattered dream back together.

Since then, I’ve written 79 articles online across different platforms, averaging 1.6 articles per month. Four years of offering something of myself to whoever happened to be reading, practising bravery in public, finding my way back to authenticity – and most importantly – learning to speak my mind and heart out loud. This has been a deeply personal and healing journey. One that I’m very proud of.

My words have become the trusted guide, not just helping me find my way from separation to connections but also unearthing self-limiting beliefs and patterns that hold me back from owning my dream.

I’ve recognised a part of me had been playing small and wounded – through writing – in exchange for connection and belonging. That I kept skirting around the idea of becoming a serious writer and instead chose other endeavours that were deemed more valid and relevant by mainstream standards.

This writing dream – the one I abandoned at eight years old – deserves more than the edges and margins I’ve been giving it. It deserves my full attention.

Now is the time to wrap up this chapter started four years ago. Moving on is never easy, as we must be willing to leave a part of ourselves behind in the past – with gratitude, acceptance, and compassion. This means I’m leaving this A-to-Z series unfinished to free up space for other possibilities. I don’t know if this is the right call, or what will happen next. I may come back here later, or I may not. All I know is I must stay honest and devoted to this human life.