Do what you love and you’ll never have to work a day in your life. — (unknown, not Confucius)

It’s a beautiful dream, right? Think of something you love to do, something you love so much it would feel like getting paid to play. Then do that.

Except, not everyone can do that. Which isn’t the same as saying it can’t be done, because it can. Neil Gaiman does it. Mary Oliver does it. Seth Godin does it. Elizabeth Gilbert does it.

But not everyone can.
Sometimes, you’re just not ready.

It’s not about the crappy parts…

Naysayers are quick to point out that there’s no perfect job, because every job has parts you hate. Maybe you love selling your photography, but you hate uploading the photos and tagging them and organizing the galleries

Maybe you love selling your design work or artwork, but you hate the dickering about prices because no one understand how much you put into your work and they think it should be half the price it needs to be to live.

It’s not about that.
Sometimes, you’re just not ready.

It’s not about the stuff you haven’t learned yet…

Like, how to get a website up or how to build a mailing list or what the heck to send to your mailing list. Or how to get people to find you on Instagram or how to rank in Google, or how to use analytics or the zillion things you need to know, but you don’t know yet and you can’t afford to pay someone to do it for you and there’s too much and it’s all so damn overwhelming.

It’s not about that.
Sometimes, you’re just not ready.

It’s not about how bad you want it, either…

There’s an old story that goes something like this; A young man travels far and wide to have a consultation with the wisest monk in the land. He spends days hiking up the side of a mountain to reach the monk.

When he finally reaches the top, ragged and tired, he tells the wise monk that he has traveled far to seek his advice so he can make progress. The monk listens, and then beckons the young man to follow him.

They walk together to a river. The monk and the young man wade out into the middle of the water together.

Suddenly, the monk grabs the young man’s shoulders and forces him under water. The young man is calm at first. But soon, he is out of air and begins to panic and struggle. The monk continues to hold him under water.

In the nick of time, the monk lets go and the man leaps into the air, sucking air into his lungs. Calmly, the monk tells him that when he wants his dream as badly as he just wanted air in that minute, he will make it happen.

It’s not about that, either.
Sometimes, you’re just not ready.

The Darling Starling and the angry bird

Margarete Corbo wrote a memoir about a little starling she raised from a nestling because when she found him, he couldn’t be returned to the nest.

The darling starling, lived in Margarete’s home and was joy to have around. He learned a wide repertoire of words and songs. He was vocal and happy and had just the sweetest disposition, ever.

Until one day, he didn’t.

One day, the darling starling became an angry bird. Angry and irritable, depressed and muttering gibberish. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Margarete said in her memoir. He was just utterly miserable.

Turned out he was molting. Birds molt when their feathers need to be replaced. Because worn out feathers don’t let them fly very well.

They’re especially vulnerable because they can’t fly when they’re molting. The old feathers need to fall away to make room new ones first.

We humans do that, too.

With creative people, the problem isn’t feathers, it’s thoughts.

Many creative people are attached to thoughts that don’t serve them in any positive way. And like the darling starling, those worn out thoughts are making them darn miserable. Maybe these sound familiar…

No one will like my work… I don’t want anyone to see my work because I don’t want their opinion… I can’t handle rejection… I am my work… my work defines me… I already know they’re going to hate it… it’s not good enough… I’m not good enough… no one cares…I tried, no one liked it… you don’t understand…

And on an on it goes. I do understand. Worn out feathers, bruised by life — bruised because the wrong words got planted in your head and they grew and took root. That’s what that is, and so the angry birds cannot fly.

Did you know there’s some random lady out there making a living selling Yeti porn? And another lady making a living selling gum paste tutorials? And another selling handmade butt paste?

Over 3 billion people online, with someone making a living on Yeti porn and you think no one will like what you create? A finer lie has never been told.

No matter what you create, your audience is out there. Over 3 billion people are online. Not knowing how to reach them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Also? You aren’t your work. Several years ago, I made a painting that I thought was the finest thing I’d ever created. Today, I laugh because it’s not my jam anymore. I don’t even like it. And that’s okay. My taste changed. I’m sure someone else would like it, just not me. And that’s okay.

You aren’t your work and your work isn’t you. Each piece is just what came through you at that given point in time. Your work isn’t even a reflection of you. It’s a reflection of what came through you at just one point in time.

You aren’t the problem. Your work isn’t the problem. Your thoughts are the problem — and it’s important to know that you are not your thoughts.

Our brains don’t like change. Change is scary. So our brains make up crazy things to keep us from changing.

There’s two things you can do about that. You can hold on to the thoughts that hold you back and keep saying “someday” you’ll chase that dream. Someday you’ll write that book.

Or you can learn how to molt those worn out old thoughts so you can fly.

Growing the wings to fly…

There’s a lovely little exercise that goes something like this; You sit in a quiet place and close your eyes. Then, instead of trying to quiet your mind, you sit and actually pay attention to it.

Each time you have a thought, you imagine a thought bubble around it. And just sit and watch the thoughts show up one after another.

At first, you’ll notice how busy your mind is. Thoughts show up so fast you can barely imagine a thought bubble before the next thought shows up.

My butt is itchy. I need to get that report done. How long has it been? I wonder what Sue was so cranky about. Oh darn, I wish I had coffee. My leg itches. This is stupid. Why am I doing this. How long has it been. Is it okay to scratch?

On and on those thoughts go, busy as little worker bees.

After a while, something else dawns on you. If you’re watching the thoughts and imagining thought bubbles around them, who is having the thoughts?

That’s when you begin to realize that you are not your thoughts.

Some of your thoughts are based in reality, for sure, like wondering what to make for dinner or reminding yourself of the report due tomorrow.

But, some of your thoughts are random bits of nonsense created by the same brain that can cook up the craziest nightmares, like running down the street in your underpants while a lion wearing clown shoes chases you.

Think of some of the most unreal dreams you’ve had. And then realize your brain creates thoughts that are equally unreal during the day, too. Thoughts are like a buffet. You need to pick the ones that work for you.

Creative work is a little bit like parenting…

You birth your darlings, and you raise them up the best you can, and then you let them go off into the world to find their own way.

Your work isn’t you any more than your children would be. They came from you, yes — but they aren’t you. You see? You create them — and then you let them have a life of your own.

Once you can detach a little so your psyche and your well-being isn’t all tied up in the work that comes through your hands, and how people respond to it, that’s when you’ll be ready to fly. I hope you do! ❤