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Creative processes take strange, meandering pathways. An idea, a spark, a new light, gets ignited, and at first it feels so cool, and so full of energy, and so alive, and so ready.

And then I live with it for a while and it stops feeling right and starts to rub me up the wrong way. And I start changing it. Little things here, and little things there, and nothing makes it quite right.

Until I am ready to cull the whole thing. But I can’t, because it has by now too much of a life of its own, and it wouldn’t feel right to wipe it out.

It took me a while to figure out why this so often happens with my projects. Be it books, art works or my business.


And earlier today I suddenly got it.


It is the swinging of the pendulum from feminine to masculine and back.


The initial idea, in my opinion, is part of the feminine. Through being connected with my truth, through being in the moment, I can download something that is meant to come in.

Then it moves into the implementation phase, which is masculine in nature. Getting stuff done. Setting up the website, filming the video, writing the chapter outline, dealing with technical issues.

This was the phase I was in until Friday.


And then it suddenly stopped. After riding the wave for quite a while, I had no more inspiration, no more drive. There are still many things to implement in my business (aren’t there always…), but I had lost interest.

This felt very uncomfortable at first. Being so used to doing doing doing I was quite lost. Bored and frustrated…

And then I started cleaning house. For some strange reason this always makes me feel better. Probably because it is a way of being productive without having to use my brain.

And then I listened to some music. And petted the dogs. And looked through some magazines. And baked a cake. And sat in the garden, talking to the chickens…

Until I felt that drive to write rising up. Which I hadn’t felt in weeks.


And now I am so in awe at the cycles we go through, and how good it is to follow them, even if the transition points can be quite unsettling.


There really is a time and a place for everything.


My cat just announced that writing time is over and cat stroking time is upon me, so I will leave you for now.


Lots of love