Failure Can Be the Deepest Medicine of All
It’s 6:30 am.
I’m crying because my heart is aching from the wounds I’m still living… still repeating. The ones I keep thinking I should be “through” or “over by now.” The wounds that tell me I’m never seen for my creative gifts. The wounds that tell me that when I put something important into the world, I’ll only receive crickets on the other ends.
I’m crying because the ache inside of me is so strong. I want to create so bad. I think what I birth into this world is important and yet… every time I invite people in I am ushered into a spiral of old stories.
It’s 6:30 am and I had no idea that the Moon was transiting Leo, sitting exact on my moon at 10º. My emotions are at an all time high. So I ache. I cry. And in my inner world I thrash about screaming, whaling, ripping the fabrics of my imagination. I visualize myself smashing the metaphorical furniture, smashing the lamps, the mirrors (whoops, is that bad luck too?)
I want to give up.
I want to give in.
I want to cancel everything.
Cancel all my work.
Close up shop for good.
What’s the point?
And yet I know… this is another initiation into this work.
How can I help people walk through the blazing fire of being seen in their creative work, if I don’t continue to unpack my own aches?
So I let myself fall apart. I sit on my pink sofa and I cry. I feel every sob in my body, and I wish my dog who died last year was here so I could sob into his fur. My new puppy isn’t the most snuggly of girls. I love her, but right now, I want my boy.
I let the initiation wash over.
What are you showing me?
And I remember.
This is exactly what the people I work with are feeling… All. The. Damn. Time.
I’ve been putting my work into the world for so long, but the fear doesn’t go away. I’ve grown rhino skin and it still feels tender when I put something out into the world and hear crickets.
I’m actively working with and releasing my need for validation. And it still hurts, as if I am tender, pink, and brand new.
I have to remember what is on the other side of this wound.
What it feels like when, even when no one cares, the creative work goes out into the world.I need them to know it’s like releasing a sigh from the body. I need them to know how much of their stagnant life is because they stopped creating…
I need them to know the ripple effect of letting their creative work be birthed into the world… to let it be witnessed. Even when it’s messy, and especially when it feels tender.
Like the moments I had no idea what I was doing when I started making music, but I went for it anyway. I stepped into the music world on my own and I had no idea what I was doing.
Like the moments I just went for it as an astrologer because I had something important to say. I knew the world needed to know my take on karmic astrology. I had no idea how I was going to get the message out, but instagram and tiktok seemed like a good start.
Or the moment I decided to burn my instagram to the ground and start writing The Wounds of the Zodiac on Substack. Once again, I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I had to start sharing my writing with the world.
I had to start owning what I was.
A multidimensional artists who was hear to express something important through many different mediums.
Somewhere out there are my people, reading these words, knowing that they’ve aching to create but terrified to take those first steps.
Not because they’re not talented. No, it’s not that.
It’s because they’re terrified of what happens when they drop that creation into the ether and they only get crickets.
They think that if they stick to the logical plan it’ll somehow all work out in the end.
They think that the judgement they’ll face on the other side of letting their artistic freak flag fly, it’ll be nothing but judgement and ridicule. And they might be right.
But I need them to know how important, how sacred, how powerful their work is.
How much their body will begins to shift when they start releasing that creativity that’s been stored up in them, making them sick.
I need them to know how much softer their spirit becomes when they finally let the creative ache flood out, even if they’re terrible at it.
I need them to know how absolutely terrible I was when I started every single creative endeavour I’ve undertaken. Seriously.
When I started singing and songwriting I did not know what a key or “staying on the beat” was. I embarrassed myself in front of several world renown producers. I’m pretty sure some of them are still laughing at the vocal stems I sent them.
But for the most part I felt more alive than ever writing songs, singing them, and getting them signed.
When I started sharing my astrology on social my graphics were next level embracing. Honestly, they were awful. Some of my early emails on astrology still make me cringe. But I was having a blast stepping into my astro role.
And guess what? No one hated my work. In fact… most people loved it. Like, actually loved it. Celebrated it. My songs are still rotating on Spotify all these years later. Millions of listens. I’m still at the heart of some peoples playlists.
My earlier astro work is still somehow popping off on Pinterest.
Because I just went for it, even though it was messy. Even though I had no idea what I was doing. I had something important to say.
I wish I could tell everyone how important is that they just go for it, and they do it messy and raw.
I wish I could tell them that I know it’s terrifying, and yes, they might fail. I fail constantly, consistently, all the time. But it doesn’t mean I quit, even when I want to scream at the top of my lungs and ask the universe why the fuck it wants me to create so bad, if there’s going to be very little recognition or, sometimes, compensation. And yet the ache to keep birthing my creations into the world keeps getting louder, and that feeling like I’ll die if I “go back into the work force” feels like an undertow just about to snatch me back into hell.
So we let ourselves fail, because it seems that is part of the deepest medicine of all.
I am speaking to the multi-dimensional beings who want to birth their gifts into the world. The intuitive who want to help people, but hesitate when the light shines on them. The artists who, like me, never felt safe to claim that work. The creatives who shrink away every time they go to share their work with the world.
And how that locked up creative energy is making us all sick.
Because creative people are meant to create, no matter what this weird world tells us.
If this made you think of someone, pass it along — they might need it today.
Wondering how you can work with me right now?
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