What is ‘work’ anyway?

Sitting on the floor with a pen and notebook can’t be work.

The resistance has been BIG this week.

Really fucking big.

Maybe I should get a real job.

Dancing around the kitchen allowing energy to move and ideas to flow can’t be real work, surely. Definitely not busting a move 80’s style, it’s meant to be flowy and feminine, right?

Feeling it so deeply I need to journal instead can’t be work either.

Proper work just can’t be journalling my inner shit for an hour.

Or devoting an entire day to inner child healing, winding up on the shower floor unable to move, even when waves of pleasure overtook the nausea engulfing every single cell in my body while I lay there, paralysed.

That’s just not what normal people do!

Sure I have a few friends who devote themselves to their daily rituals and bring in 6-7 figures working only a couple of hours a day unless they're launching something.

But that’s not normal. They’re not normal.

I’m normal.

So maybe I should get a real job like normal people, bringing home a normal, regular, safe, income.

The restriction I feel in that is overwhelming.

Most normal people I know are unfulfilled, stressed and so busy they’re missing precious time with their loved ones or doing what their soul is craving.

I do have friends who are thriving working a ‘real’ job they love but that’s pretty rare. Most normal people I know live week to week. The more they earn the bigger the bills & the stress that goes with it.

It sure as shit was for me.

It was missing moments with the girls, working for the weekend, barely getting by whether I earned $200 a week or $2000 and I’ve experienced both.

I can live week to week doing what I love.

And I can transmute that bullshit limitation too... the one that it doesn’t matter what I earn it seems to go out as quickly as it comes in.

And I can allow, truly, fully allow limitlessness.

So I guess I am on the right track being off track, it’s just a little scary right now.

And that’s a good sign.