This article is an excerpt from a past monthly letter. If you enjoy this kind of grounding support, sign up to receive the monthly coaching package: it includes an article like this one, journaling prompts, creative practices, spiritual rituals and supportive tools to help you navigate your rebellious path as an artist or creative entrepreneur.

Wildflower, the bravest and most difficult decision may have already been taken: venturing out of the safe path to step on an unpaved road: yours. Choosing to follow what’s true over what’s familiar. You’ve decided to opt out of the “shoulds” of social programming, cultural norms and family standards so you could live in alignment with your truth. This is the beginning of a huge unlearning and relearning adventure. You’re no longer relying on the outside world to decide for you— which means you get to choose and make your own decisions, despite them not being accepted, valued or even understood.

This brave decision undeniably unfolds many other questions as you’re standing in front of that blank canvas, full of open spaces, patiently waiting for you to make the first mark.

What do I really want? What would that look like concretely?

How do I contribute to what’s meaningful for me? What form does it take?

And then doubt may start to creep in.

Is this really what I want? Does it even make sense? What if it doesn't work out? Is this indulgent or delusional? What’s the best way to make it happen? ...And who am I to do this?

In theory, making the first mark is quite simple— in reality, it’s not that easy. We can get lost in overthinking its shape, colour and texture. We may have chosen to listen to our soul’s nudges and follow our heart’s desires, but somehow here we are back into our head— wrestling with our inner critic.

We may freeze in place, paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong first mark (perfectionism). We may convince ourselves it might be better to put the material away and start tomorrow (procrastination). We may outsource our power and look for someone else to make that decision for us (self-doubt). We may tell ourselves we don’t have the skills to make that first mark (imposter syndrome). We may spend hours going back and forth on the perfect hue of red (indecisiveness). We may wrestle with a part of us that convinces us we’re too much or not enough (inner critic). We remain immobilized by the anxiety of taking that step— stumbling, falling on our face and being shamed for it. We wait to be ready. We wait to be certain. We wait to make sure we’ll get it right.

Wildflower, you may stumble along the way, trying to find your footing. But you cannot possibly get your own path wrong.

Being certain, confident and calm about making that first mark could only possibly mean one thing: you’ve walked on this path before. This is not the case right now.

The belief that we need to be ready, certain and get that first mark 'just right' is also part of the old stories we’ve been telling ourselves as we kept walking on the wrong, yet familiar path. These are narratives we’ve been reciting as bedtime stories, while putting our truth to sleep.

What’s getting in the way of making that first mark is not being unclear about what to do— in fact, we’re not really supposed to. What’s getting in the way is our inability to trust ourselves, listen to our inner wisdom and follow what feels true. We don’t need to feel clear and confident about every step we’ll take on that path— what we need is to have our own back. Ultimately, that’s what trusting yourself means here: holding yourself through the bumps and gathering the courage to get back up when you do fall. Believing “I will take that step because deep down I know this is right for me. I know and accept who I am, and I trust that I can navigate the consequences of that decision.”

This adventure you’re embarking on requires you to seek for your inner wisdom over external guidance— using your truth as the north on your inner compass and surrendering to its guidance. Yet, it may feel challenging to trust yourself right now. Maybe you’ve betrayed yourself many times before— telling yourself you’ll do something and ghosting yourself, voicing out a need and bypassing it. Dishonouring your truth.

Learning to trust ourselves is a process and it is quite challenging to do when we haven’t created space to really listen to our truth— identity, desires, vision, values, gifts, life lessons.

Which brings us to this question: what is my truth?

Building your Inner Compass, an internal navigation system of some sort, can help you distill your truth and use it as a grounding anchor. Creating space for non-judgmental self-inquisitiveness can lead the way back home to yourself. Understanding who you are, what you want and what you need will help you set guidelines to facilitate the decision-making process and avoid the overthinking that can often arise. So, as you surrender to this unknowing, you can choose to ground yourself in your inner wisdom and in what you do know: what feels true to you at any moment.

Now, as you do, you may start to hear another voice trying to bring you back on the paved road: the inner critic.

This part of us is not out to get us or destroy us— it’s there to protect us by keeping us in our comfort zone, safely sheltered from any ‘danger’ (ie: rejection, judgment, shame). It’s a relentless warrior that’s shielding the wounded parts of us in the only way it knows how to— sometimes, that looks like rejecting ourselves before anyone else gets to, or keeping us small to avoid being seen and potentially judged. Convincing ourselves that something is dangerous is definitely a very effective way to stay safe. Judging, rejecting and bullying ourselves before anyone else gets to is also a very effective way of never getting hurt.

It’s also incredibly suffocating.

This is an invitation to stop fighting your inner critic. This is an invitation to befriend it. This is an invitation to collaborate with it. Perhaps its protective nature can be used in a way that serves you better and you can ask them:

What if my difference was not something to hide? What if you protected my truth as ferociously? What if you held on to my weirdness as a precious treasure?

Instead of trying to get rid of our inner critic, I'd invite us to open up a dialogue with this part of us and build a closer relationship with it. Perhaps there's a way to team up so we can rewrite stories that allow us to align with our truth while unlearning the ones that kept us hidden.

Wildflower, your capacity to imagine, create, love or feel goes beyond the parameters that have been set by society. And maybe that’s a beautiful thing about you. Go ahead and dance between the lines. Coronate yourself with ampersands. You’re a walking contradiction, and you blossom in the grey zones. You’re a beautiful mess and your wildness cannot be tamed. Maybe it's time to own that.

Maybe that first mark also gets to be wild, unconventional, creative. Maybe you can finally allow yourselves to colour outside the lines.