Not Where You're "Supposed" to Be?

Earlier this week, I sat down to finish creating a new art journaling practice. I was excited to work on it, because I had a bunch of ideas, and I sensed that it could be really fun and helpful for my students.

But as I sat there, trying to figure out how all the pieces fit together, things just were not flowing. One by one, every idea I had been so excited about felt flat. And my enthusiasm and sense of possibility turned to anxiety.

I felt stuck.

And before long, that old panicky, low-key spiraling voice showed up:

“It shouldn't be so hard ~ I’m never going to figure this out!!”

That panicky, low-key spiraling voice often comes up when something matters to me.

When I’m following my intuition to create something new.

When I want to offer something that feels genuine and meaningful (and also fun).

It’s so hard to stay with something when I feel that kind of uncertainty ~ and to trust that it's ok for things to unfold in a messy way! That not knowing doesn't mean that I'll never figure it out.

Thankfully, I was able to hang in there. What I did was hard, but simple: I put a hand on my heart, and I just kept drawing in my art journal. Trusting something that I couldn't see yet.

It took time ~ longer than I thought it would ~ but eventually, the full practice began to take shape. It was playful and a little weird ~ and simple. Even though the process had many twists and turns. By the end, I felt good about it. And so relieved!

To get there, I had to release the story of how it was supposed to look or feel ~ and just keep going. I recently rediscovered a poem that feels so connected to this process of letting go and trusting growth, even when it feels messy and uncertain:

Rogue Corn
by Nikki Wallschlaeger

My fav event as harvest season approaches
is the rough seed that escaped the plots.

If there’s a cornfield adjacent to another bed
of vegetables, you can count on imperfection,

you can see stalks standing where they’re
not supposed to be, the winds have ideas,

seeds who choose wildness, here they are,
with red potatoes, alfalfa, peas, sunflowers,

they look pleased w/ themselves, outfoxing
clever farmers, making it to the unplanned

ground where nobody is around, recovering
where the amiable dirt will welcome them.

Seeds are so FUN and DETERMINED,
there’s no concept of liberty, no need for it,

guaranteed if I were a seedling I’d abstain,
you know I would, I’d find a way to renounce

what’s expected of my common name,
gliding over the roads until a dream takes root

first published in Poetry (October 2020)

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I love the poem's quirky, rebellious and deeply self-compassionate message. And there are so many details to appreciate. For one, there’s something about the rogue seed "escaping the plot". The plot of land, yes, but also the plot/story of how and where it's supposed to be. It reminds me that dreams big and small often require us to do things differently. And they don’t need perfect conditions ~ they take root when we trust that where we are is where we need to be. Even if it isn't where we thought we'd be. Becoming doesn’t always look graceful, and imperfection isn’t a bad omen ~ it's a given. In fact, as the poem says ~ you can count on it.

If you’d like to explore this a little more, here's the kind of practice I turn to when I feel stuck ~ it helps me come home to myself. To give it a try, just put a hand on your heart, and take three breaths.

With each inhale, say to yourself: count on imperfection

With each exhale, say: as a dream takes root

When you finish, notice how you feel.

I hope this note feels supportive as you navigate whatever you're navigating today. If things don't look or feel the way you thought they would, you're not alone. And it doesn't mean that you're doing anything wrong ❤️

Maybe something is beginning to settle.

Maybe something is beginning to grow.

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