repetition is sacred
what to do when you feel like your practice doesn't matter
early november 2023.
i hear the dreamers (the ancestors, God, Spirit, Black Sherah Princess of Power) say “make a fire every day” as I am walking down stairs to drop a bag of black cohosh and brahmi in my morning coffee.
noticing how long it takes me to make a cup of coffee. noticing how long it takes for the water to heat over fire. noticing slow pour coffees are poured slowly for a reason—the slower the pour the richer the flavor. noticing quincy jones wrote a song called ‘maybe god is trying to tell you somethin.’
i love a good fire in the morning but i have no wood burning fire place in my current home. my homes by the water and in the country that is not the united states have not been zillow’d to me yet. will check for amenities like fire places. for now, i have my current home with no wood, fire, or place to hang my burning desires.
speak to my heart, holy spirit.
they laugh instead.
I imagine the anthropomorphic ancestor gods are amused by me. Suckin’ their teeth sayin, “we didn’t say nothin about no wood burning fireplace. but here she go again, talkin bout what she aint got.” if i fixate on what I do not have, i will miss what they are trying to tell me.
tldr: create with what you have. this is your practice. commit to your practice. remain curious about your commitment to your practice. tend to your practice. what will be revealed from the practice is more of you. your body will respond to the stories you tell yourself about your practice. our repetition is sacred. you are a witness to the miracle of daily practice. i have nothing to tell you to do if you feel like your practice doesn’t matter. this is what i have observed about myself when i feel this way.
i lite a candle. the candle burns while i sip my coffee. i said no words and i called no names. i put the practice in motion. and i commit.
make a fire every day.
december 2023.
i make a pot of jasmine rice on my gas stove top. rice making is fire making. i feel fully satisfied when i make rice three times over because
one) i cooked
two) i fed myself and
three) i fed myself a home cooked meal.
meaning a i fed myself something familiar and something that feels like love to me.
i have friend who teases me because i make rice for dinner weekly. at my grandparents home in eastern north carolina we ate buttered rice with breakfast daily. A pot of cooked rice sat on the stove all day long. Anyone at anytime could feed themselves and experience full satisfaction from what was always available-a bowl of rice. and i want that for myself. for all of us. to buffet off the lovingly familiar and the always available all day long. to feed ourselves love daily. rice making is love making. love making is fire making.
make a fire every day. make love everyday. your practice makes love.
as we speak it so it is. i make richly satisfying love everyday. by the fire. in the by-the-water-home.
make a fire every day.
the week between christmas and new year’s 2023.
i flick a red bic lighter and sing happy birthday to myself. it is not my birthday.
as a child, my grandfather held a flame for me while i sang the birthday song with my sister and cousin. we blew out the flame of his red bic lighter.
today, i hear my grandfather saying keep singing and keep the fire burning. tend to your fire. name what is burning inside of you. what is burning you up.
a hot take on a story burning me from the inside out.
the story i am telling myself is: what i am doing, what i am offering, and how i’m living doesn’t matter. dreaming and imagination and resting and writing and coaching and playing and zooming and consulting and texting and checking in and checking on. doesn’t matter to anyone. how did we get here? underneath the story is my burning desire to know I matter. I am connected. I belong. that the practice matters.
some days i feel like i’m just out here flapping my wings instead of fanning the flame. flapping wings is part of nature’s rise to regulate a dysregulated nervous system. why would i diminish what is a natural part of the process to create? doubt. uncertainty. undoing of myself. can i see them as part of the practice too?
mid january 2024.
my hairstylist says to me “your hair breakage is back. it’s in the same spot. you’re very sensitive. what has changed?” what has changed: i told myself a story that the practice didn’t matter. i told myself a story that I didn’t matter. my body responded to what i sspoke.
tend to your fire. tend to your practice. remember the scale of your practice is you.
the assignment is to make a fire daily. they didn’t ask me to build a bon fire. my desire to make something bigger, go faster, do more is what is burning me up. breaking me and my hair. i shared with a friend i felt like i was running out of time to produce fire. that is not the assignment. produce is never the assignment. make fire. be the fire.
you are the practice.
if something matters only to me I remind myself that is actually what matters. bring myself back to my practice. the barometer for mattering is this: does the heat from your own fire keep you warm. are you richly satisfied from your own pot of jasmine rice? this may take time. the slower the pour the richer the flavor. allow the practice of perspective to return you to the practice.
i have a tough inner critic that beats the butterfly chaser within me up pretty hard. the butterfly chaser is one who follows her interests like the spirit of butterfly—starting, pausing, restarts, pauses, comes back to practices, projects, pages, books, etc. i’m pretty sure the ancestors offered the practice of making a fire every day so I could see myself as committed and consistent to daily practice. so i can see how richly satisfying my own love is to me. fire making does not require alot of skill, time, or creativity. it does not require me to do the same thing every day. fire making requires my commitment to remember i made a commitment to myself. fire making requires me to reframe how I practice and why I practice as valuable to me. recently, i was in the bed nearly asleep when I remembered I had not intentionally made a fire. i got out of bed went downstairs and lit a fire. it felt good to complete my commitment to myself. in the reaching for a lighter. i am reaching to see more of myself, daily.
the repetition is sacred. there is a miracle in the mundane.
i see it. can you see it?
make a fire daily til you do.
Love,
your comments and hearts inspire me and my practice. thank you for being here. the name of this post is inspired by my practice with Alexis Pauline Gumbs “Repetition is Scared” offering.
“to buffet off the lovingly familiar and the always available all day long.”
this is the gift, the promisedland. ament.
Thank you for this beautiful reminder to tend to our practice. I'm struck by the ways the mundane lead to the greatest revelations in our lives. As always, your writing is beautiful and convicting.