Our essential True Nature is not found in what we create,
but in and as the Awareness that witnesses it all.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been feeling something I wasn’t fully expecting.
Flat. Uninspired. Sad.
It’s something we rarely talk about: what happens after we’ve poured our entire being into bringing a vision to life—or anything we’ve devoted our love, time, and energy to that eventually ends or dramatically changes. After the celebration and relief of getting to the finish line of even the most desired completions, there can be a unique kind of grief that quietly arrives.
In July of this year The Woman’s Rite documentary production team and I celebrated a significant milestone. The film is now complete and ready to submit to film festivals!
Pictured here is our illustrious core film team – Heidi, Me, Cecily, Eleanor and Sean. And yes, we had a good laugh about the collection of film titles playing the day we did our premiere screening of The Woman’s Rite for supporters and community members.
As a society we celebrate the crossing of the threshold, but rarely do we give thought to what comes afterward. The settling. The reshaping. The disorientation. The period when what once gave structure to our days dissolves, and we don’t yet know what will emerge in its place…a sudden drop into the unknown,
For nearly three years, the journey of creating The Woman’s Rite documentary wasn’t simply a project. It was my companion, a teacher, and in many ways, a living expression of my own rite of passage into the Elder archetype. It gave shape to many of my days, inviting me to stretch beyond what I thought possible, and continually asked me to look within and inquire,
“How can I do this in a way that lights me up?”
That question became my compass.
Not because it always led to ease, but because it led me toward aliveness and a “soul-YES”. It was SO worth it to see the finished product and feel the heartful reactions from the film’s audience.
And now…
Quiet.
Void.
Liminal space.
At first, it felt like something was wrong. I found myself moving more slowly, feeling untethered, feeling an emptiness I couldn’t quite explain.
Shouldn’t I feel energized? Inspired? Ready for the next adventure?
My mind immediately wanted to interpret the silence as a problem to solve. It began searching for the next purpose, the next project, the next spark even though I felt, and still feel, some kind of soul fatigue.
Then I remembered something, something really important, we often forget to honor in the creative process and every rite of passage… enough… the need for integration. There is something deeper asking something entirely different.
Simply… be here. Feel this.
Looking back, I realize that the creative process of this film asked far more of me than making a documentary. It invited me to trust a vision long before I knew how it could possibly come into being. It challenged me to release control, ask for help, become more visible, and keep returning to the quiet wisdom within.
Now, when I ask that familiar question—“What lights me up?”—all I hear is silence. And perhaps that’s exactly as it should be. Years of contemplative practice have taught me that silence is not the absence of Life.
Silence is one of its most potent languages.
From a non-dual perspective, nothing essential has disappeared. The spacious Awareness that witnessed the excitement, uncertainty, joy, frustration, and fulfillment of creating this film is the very same Awareness now witnessing this quieter season.
Inspiration comes. Inspiration goes.
Joy comes. Joy goes.
Sadness comes. Sadness goes.
The bouquets of flowers I was given at the Premiere bloomed and then died.
Nature knows how to complete a cycle. The flower blooms, gives itself completely, and then quietly releases its petals. Nothing has gone wrong. The life that animated the blossom has simply changed form.
Awareness remains.
There is something profoundly liberating in remembering I don’t have to become inspired again in order to be whole. Rather than a failure of creativity, it feels like creativity bowing to a deeper rhythm. Rather than an ending, perhaps this is the exhale after a long and wholehearted breath.
Permission granted to stop reaching for the next vision and simply appreciate the one that has just been lived. After years of living with the question, “What lights me up?” I sense this season is inviting a different inquiry.
What wants to rest?
What no longer needs my effort?
Can I allow Life to live me for a while instead of asking what I should create next?
I’m beginning to trust that inspiration has not abandoned me. It is simply asking me to become still enough to recognize what I truly long for has never depended upon inspiration in the first place.
Perhaps you’ve just completed something too.
A wonderful visit with friends
A great book
A project.
A season of caregiving.
A career.
A relationship.
A healing journey.
Or maybe life simply feels quieter than it once did.
Sometimes the next vision doesn’t arrive because we want it to. Sometimes it quietly appears after we’ve fully grieved what has ended… after we’ve honored what has been given…after we’ve become available to this moment exactly as it is.
Before rushing to fill the silence, I’ve been journaling with the questions below. Perhaps you might tuck them into your pocket until they become useful.
Reflections for the Journey of Integration
- What have I recently completed that deserves to be honored?
- Where have I been expecting myself to “bounce back” before allowing time to integrate?
- What in me is asking for rest rather than reinvention?
- What if this quiet season isn’t empty, but fertile?
- If I released the pressure to feel inspired, what might I notice instead?
- What simple moments are quietly nourishing me today?
- Who am I when there is nothing to accomplish?
Sometimes the next vision doesn’t arrive because we want it to. Sometimes it quietly appears after we’ve fully grieved what has ended… after we’ve honored what has been given… after we’ve become available to this moment exactly as it is.
I’ve come to realize The Woman’s Rite was never only about making a documentary. While it is important to celebrate crossing thresholds, it is vital to honor the sacred work of becoming the person who crossed them.
I wholeheartedly accepted an invitation to trust the unfolding of Life itself and that invitation hasn’t ended. Perhaps it has simply become quieter. Our essential True Nature is not found in what we create, but in and as the Awareness that witnesses it all.