The Magic of Doing Nothing
It has been a while since I have written to folx in my newsletter community. Actually, it has been several months since I have written anything and shared with others. You may be wondering why this is a big deal. Well, because I am in my 40s and have finally declared to myself that I am a writer. It has been a dream of mine since I was 9 years old. And yet it is the thing that I have kept hidden deep within my heart and subconscious for too long.
For as long as I could remember I wanted to write. Yet it was a deep, dark secret I held. I never uttered the words aloud of my wish to be a writer. I kept it close to my heart for fear of judgment or rejection. I guess this is an example of a writer's wound. I hear the voices of some of the racist professors and teachers I had who told me I was a terrible writer. Or who affirmed my struggle of writing (more specifically grammar) because English was my second language. So many pains and past hurts that are open wounds but I am ready to let them transform into scars. It is something I am confronting lately. Calling out the voices who have made a home in my psyche. These voices are an amalgamation of past experiences and hurtful memories. I don’t want to live in the past anymore. I don’t want these voices to be louder than the wisdom that lies within me. It really was noisy inside and the only thing I could do was invite a pause.
Sometimes you gotta take a break from it all. That is what happened to me. I did not feel connected to myself nor to my tarot practice. At the time, I had pulled the Four of Cups and that’s when things stopped. I felt stumped and stuck. So I did what I always do, I took three deep breaths, closed my eyes and journeyed within and leaned into the stuckness. I imagined myself as the human figure in the Four of Cups, I saw myself seated under a tree. I crossed my arms. I pouted, I whined, I huffed and puffed. I looked to my left and right. I took deep breaths. I saw empty chalices laying on the ground but I was not interested in them. Then I felt this energetic pull to look forward, to look ahead. And then I returned to my child-like protest, my tantrum. The pouting intensified. Then the wind blew and I gently blinked my eyes open and there it was the fourth chalice filled with my favorite herbal tea. I was so thirsty and yearning for it but something held me back. The cup felt out of reach.
And that’s when it came to me. “It's time to take a break. Step away from it all.”
My tarot practice opens the door to the rhythms and resonances that exist within me. The tarot is so often a mirror asking me to face myself. When this card appeared, it awakened the part of me that felt this pressure to please and to write for others. The Four of Cups, at that moment, asked me to revisit my intentions. I needed to honor the rhythm within that tells me to slow tf down. So that’s what I did. I took a break from writing and from my tarot practice.
For the past month, the Four of Cups has been a guide and teacher, in embracing the magic of doing nothing. As a recovering people pleaser and perfectionist, I am often energized in the act of “doing.” In the doing, I can distract myself with activity and put aside what brings discomfort. Slowing down is a practice that does not come naturally but one that feeds me fully, like a big ‘ole sunday breakfast. It’s the kinda food that nourishes the soul.
The Four of cups whispers to me, you can’t force the magic, friend. Embrace the pause.”
In the traditional Smith Rider Waite card of the Four of Cups, the human figure is seated, cross-legs perched under a tree with three chalices on the ground and one chalice is held by a disembodied hand. Perhaps given to them by a higher source or their wisest, intuitive self. The person has their arms crossed and they are looking away from the disembodied hand and the chalice floating in the air. The human’s expression suggests that they are not able to see what’s right in front of them. Maybe they are not ready to take in the nutrients from this chalice or they need to step away, widen their perspective to see things fully. But the magic is always there whether we see it or not.
“There is a magic in doing nothing. There is a magic that appears when we don’t force it. There is a deep wisdom that comes when we release the pressure of expectations imposed upon us by this system, our colleagues, friends and family, and even from ourselves.”
It took me decades to embrace my writer self and here I was moving away from it or so I thought. As a young kid, my daily journaling practice grounded me and a form of escape, it was a place that held my hopes and dreams. I also lost myself in the stories of my favorite writers and poets. I imagined I could be like them. However, survival took centerstage and my desires had to take the backseat. So that passionate young writer got tucked away. And now here this self has emerged and I was burying them again. It was difficult for me to notice the cup right in front of me, this gift, this nourishment to ingest, to take in. Sometimes we don’t notice the magic in plain sight because we are consumed with a longing of the past. What if we allow ourselves this moment to notice the wisdom, the magic right here, right now?
“Sometimes we don’t notice the magic in plain sight because we are consumed with a longing of the past. What if we allow ourselves this moment to notice the wisdom, the magic right here, right now?”
This break taught me that my writing practice is sacred soul food that I cannot go without. It is cherished and holy. Writing is the way I connect to my inner divinity, to ancestors and my truth. I’ll talk more about the rituals that I invite into my sacred writing practice next time. This break taught me that there are no unsacred places. I learned that when we surrender to doing nothing, the magic is always there for us. While during that break, I did not join pen and paper, fingers and keyboards, nor hands and cards; tarot and writing never left me. The words were there, the tarot was there. The magic of doing nothing, opens the door to what's sacred within and around you, around us. Our only job is to hold on to what's sacred, even when we have to step away from it all.
Affirm:
When I am feeling the pressure to meet an expectation that others or I have set upon myself, I will embrace the magic of doing nothing. I will embrace the pause. I will take a few deep breaths. I will listen to my inner rhythm that tells me it’s time to step away from it all. There is wisdom that will surface when I make space for being and not doing.
We can so often miss what’s right in front of us. Tell me, what happens when you miss out on what’s in front of you when you are focused on that one thing calling for your attention? What’s it like when you do nothing? Is it uncomfortable? How do you navigate that? I’d love to hear from you. Let me know in the comments.