It's been quiet around here lately. Most notably because I stopped working for three months to care for Sloane during the stay-at-home order, but also because in the few moments I was able to work, my heart was focused on getting things in order for my new website.
As many of you know from reading this post, a few months back I made the decision to venture out on my own with a new and separate website to continue to explore the world of psychology, consciousness, intuition, etc. Within weeks of making that decision, my ability to work was stymied by the circumstances and so I took it as a sign to center and reset before determining an exact path forward.
As someone who's a never-ending thinker, analyzer, and doer by design, the stillness of these last several months has been both welcomed and incredibly challenging. Although I know deep in my heart that stillness is where the greatest evolutions of the soul occur, it's hard for my mind to be still. It prides itself on doing and judges too much being. And yet being is exactly what was needed.
And so despite the challenges, I held space for myself and for the discomfort, and I trusted that I'd know when the time was right to take the next step.
I believe that our most important work isn't of our own mind but through it. If you've read Big Magic by Liz Gilbert then you're familiar with this idea. The idea that inspiration is an energetic entity that exists outside of us waiting for us to ready ourselves to receive its guidance. If we fail to receive it, it will eventually seek someone else, because its message is one that needs to be heard and we, as physical beings, are merely conduits for its manifestation.
The idea is both liberating and terrifying. Liberating in the sense that we don't have to force our most important work—it will come when it's ready. Terrifying in the sense that we have less control than we'd like to think over matters of inspiration.
By late April, I was feeling hints of that terror. Wondering if I'd ever have an idea for the next step to take and yet knowing, trusting that inspiration would return when the time was right.
About a week later, I was hit with a surge of swirling inspiration for an article. The overarching idea straddled two of my loves—psychology and consciousness—and it felt big and important. Like something that needed to take shape.
Have you ever had this experience? Like a rush of divine energy pushing you forward, encouraging you to bring X into the world. It's a wonderful feeling.
And so in my downtime while Sloane was napping (and the "morning" sickness wasn't debilitating and confining me to bed), I chipped away at this idea. And I chipped and chipped and chipped until it felt like it was ready to be shared. Not perfect but ready.
To date, it's one of the longest pieces I've shared (outside my book, of course). It also feels like one of the most important things I've written, and so I really, truly hope you find it's worthy of your time.
You can click here to read the full article—Beating the Backfire Effect: How a Neurobiological Fear of Dissonance Divides Us and Prohibits Our Evolution—on my new site.
It would mean the world to me if you carved out time to read it. And if what you read resonates, please feel free to share. Thank you, thank you. And lots of love. 💗