Issue # 114 | Date April 10th 2026 | Previous issues​

Hey Reader,

Every week I have a million things I want to share with you. My mind is like a race track with several cars competing for first place.

I'm always reading, analyzing, sorting, researching, filing, noting, learning, etc.

Life is rich with color, beauty, experience, and yet it's hard to feel "alive" sometimes. Still, I'll never understand people who are bored with life, and maybe even themselves.

As Dr. Seuss said in one of his books, "there are too many thinks to think."

This morning while sitting in my cozy book nook I thought, "am I doing something productive here? Worthwhile? Is sitting here with a cup of tea and a journal in my lap, staring off into the distance—a waste of time?"

Because sitting around doing nothing is silly and wasting valuable, precious time, right?

And that's when I said, "whoa! Whose voice is that?"

It's inside my mind somewhere.

I'm a doer. A shaker. A go-getter. I crave movement. The idea of sparing no time to get where I'm going appeals to me.

Stillness can feel like failure.

Until you start to realize that idea is preposterous.

Especially if you're a creative type. And trust me, everyone is a creative type.

Art is art whether it's a drawing, a sculpture, a musical score, beating a drum, writing, decorating, crocheting, sewing, acting, or maybe you're the type who comes up with innovative solutions to thorny problems.

So yeah. You're creative. There's no getting around it. Your Life-Source is creative. How you manifest creativity is up to you. But it's important because we need more creative people in this world.

Creativity needs nutrients.

Just like trees need oxygen and flowers need sunshine.

Growth doesn't happen when you're watching, right? The natural world around you is growing, resting, sleeping, eating, awakening, and giving at the right times—unique to each of them.

And yet I resist. You resist. The world resists.

I notice how quickly my mind turns quiet moments into moral dilemmas.

I know I should be cleaning, cooking, working (this stuff never ends!).

But I also know I need slowness, space, solitude, time, and rest.

I have a hard time choosing these things when there's no external force permitting me to choose me—for the sake of me.

So, when my son doesn't "kick" me out of the house (he admits he likes it when I leave and I admit I like leaving too 😝), why do I have such a hard time leaving?

Whose permission do I need to claim space and time for myself?

Why is it that when I have a whole afternoon or day or week to myself—I have an existential crisis? I justify it because all the other weeks in the month are booked?

It feels like I'm bridging two impossible ledges—the part of me that knows what I need, and the part that warns me against taking it.

I'm left staring into the chasm wondering whose voice that is and how did it got there? Who shaped the way I think?

Staring into chasms isn't something I'm comfortable with in real life. I would NEVER, EVER go to the Grand Canyon, sit at the edge, and dangle my feet over it. Nope. Nope. Nope. I've seen people do this and it freaks me out.

So why do I let my mind do that to me???

My ego demands I go to the edge and look down. Then it lectures me. "Don't you know how dangerous this is? Don't you know how many people have fallen and cracked their heads open?"

I stare back at my ego and say, "but you're the one who brought me here!"

My ego gets offended. It gets silent. Because it has no answer to that—at least that it's willing to admit.

Hey Ego, how about stop trying to "protect me" from doing things that are new, fun, slow, creative, daring, etc.!

I love this question for writers:

Can I let my writing count as work, and let slowness and stillness count as process, without feeling like a failure?

Because in the end, isn't fear of failure what we really stress about?

Failure to please others.

Failure to succeed or look good.

Failure to create something that feels worthy or admirable.

And maybe that's where the rebellion comes in.

Enjoying life, the slowness, the unproductive parts, the stillness, and not tying everything to worth and "real" work.

Work and play often feel like opposite ledges of the same mountain, but are they?

Some smart people have figured out how to build a bridge between them. Maybe we can too!

A question for you to ponder or scribble about in your journal:

Where does stillness feel unsafe, indulgent, or unproductive because of what you've absorbed from your ego or environment?

Whew, that's a big question. But it's worth considering.

And you know what, this isn't a one and done thing you conquer and check off, never to be dealt with again. It's a lifelong process of learning, growing, and getting closer to joy.

So—go be slow, go be still, go be creative, go fail as part of the process, and go be just a little rebellious with joy as the finish line.

With love,

Anna

P.S. The women who feel most guilty about claiming space are often the ones already giving the most away.

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