If you really want the fast path slow down

I spend a lot of time planning for the future, five, ten, fifteen years down the line—how to finish the next book, how to pay off the mortgage, how to write the next blog post, where to go on holiday for the summer, what to wear the next day, what will I say in the meeting later today, what to buy at the supermarket to cook for dinner tonight? Yep sounds about right, for I am trying to live a version of life in the fast path; the sort, I am told successful people lead. 

In fact I am getting to the space where I cannot differentiate between where I end and my fast path begins.  So here I am trying to survive amidst the waves of mind chatter, which threaten to engulf me, leaving me a seething mass of insecurities.

All this despite just knowing that what I must do is stop. Stop and be still and let it all wash over me, through me till I find a space where it is quiet, where I am quiet, I become one with the stillness. And while I am there just be. The space where I can create, where I can follow my heart and write without worrying about the tomorrow or the day after or about the rest of my life.

Its tough to do this with the demands, which pull at me through my channels of connection to the every day life. Yet, if I can carve out a few minutes, a half hour every day perhaps, from within this meddlesome existence, to just write—for then I am grounded, here and now, in the present, and the closest I get to that feeling of utter stillness, for that is my connection with the divine, perhaps that would be a good start?

Here’s the original post written by Daisy Nokes, which inspired this piece. For more go to LAXMIwrites

The muse is a fickle mistress

So there is a muse. That much has become clear to me. She is a fussy lady, a temperamental one too, of no fixed address, who changes her mind at the last minute.

She visits me at the turns of the season only, during the liminal time.

I first heard about the concept of liminality from Becky Walsh and then everything fell into place.

As a writer, I create better when there is a feeling of suspension of formlessness all around me. ie. when it is neither day nor night, when I am neither indoors nor outdoors, neither at home or in office.

I've done some of my best writing waiting for trains & planes and when I have nodded off into the twilight zone in the back of cars, taxis, even autorickshaws bouncing around the streets of Bombay.

And so as winter bursts into full blown spring in London here I am up in the morning with the sun at 5am and it feels glorious as the words gush out like a thawn out stream after an epic winter.

So next time, when you feel really creative be aware of the what, when and where of the moment. Be completely present as you take in your surroundings outside and how you feel inside?

That tickle in your throat, the adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heart beating in excitement for she is here finally and you can feel yourself submerge into the loving lustfullness of the moment (Ha!  whoever said writing was a sedentary business was obviously no writer themself!)

Make the most of it though for the muse is a wicked mistress, she graces you with her presence for just a few times in the year, how long will you be able to tie her down this time?

For more go to LAXMIwrites

How to live in a connected world?

I am wracked with self doubts which are strongest when I turn voyeur—when I peer in on the lives of others, seeing images I am conditioned into thinking constitute my real life. Been there, done some of that, none of which brought me the promised feeling of euphoria, that sense of peace, that attainment of something permanent—Duh! I sure was looking in the wrong place for the wrong kind of stuff. 

The media (and I am one of them) propagates a false myth of what it means to be happy and the power of the written and spoken word is such that indeed it also influences many others into thinking that this was the stuff dreams were made of. It is when I look to the outside for inspiration that I am most vulnerable. When I think back to what I could have done or to the future of what could be that I feel insecure.

For deep down I always know what makes me truly happy. What makes me live life in all its glory—with its ups and downs, the joy of feeling every living waking moment as if it were my last and the pain of separation, of not having that which is most dear.

The question then is how to balance the inside with the outside in today’s connected world? It is only by being discerning in what I take in—in what and whom I connect with—that I can tune out the noise. By having the strength to exercise my right of choice I give myself the permission to bridge to my real reality. Fading out the confusion of the outside. Try it, and tell me how it feels.

For more go to LAXMIwrites