Following the Yes

I’m a big fan of following the yes.

By that I mean the thing that feels most alive in my life at the moment. The thing that’s drawing my attention. The thing that has a little charge around it. The thing I keep circling back to, even when I’m trying to be practical and organized and terribly grown-up about my day.

I think about this a lot in my creative life because, honestly, there are always more things I want to do than there is time to do them. There are things I need to make. Things I need to record. Things I need to write. Things that are part of the business side of my work. And there are things I make that are still just little sparks of an idea, tugging at my sleeve, wanting attention before I even know what they are.

And if I only look at all of that through the lens of a to-do list, I can get myself into absolute overwhelm pretty damn fast.

I do keep lists. I’m not pretending I float through the day in some kind of mystical cloud of inspiration. I write things down… a lot, like every day. I know what needs to happen, and writing my list grounds me in a way that helps my mind stop spinning. I know what has deadlines, what has consequences, and what needs tending. But I’ve learned that a list is not always the same thing as guidance.

Sometimes a list is just a pile of words.

So over time, I’ve developed this way of looking at my day that is less about forcing myself through a set of shoulds and more about listening for what has energy. It’s almost like I run my finger down the list and pay attention to what happens in my body. I listen for where there’s a little spark, a little warmth, a little leaning forward.

That doesn’t mean I only do the fun stuff. It doesn’t mean I ignore what needs to be done. It means I’ve stopped assuming that my mind always knows the best order for things. Because my mind, bless it, has been trained by the outside world. A very masculine, not-so-intuitive world.

My creative life rarely works best through shoulds. It works best through relationship—with my energy, with the work itself, with whatever’s actually at play in the day.

So in the morning, I’ll often sit for a few minutes and get quiet. Nothing dramatic. I might close my eyes. I might feel into my belly. I might take a few breaths and think about the different pieces of the day. The writing. The recording. The making. The errands. The thing I’ve been avoiding. The thing I’m wildly excited about but keep telling myself has to wait.

And then I listen.

Not for a booming answer. Not for a perfect plan. Just for the place where something in me says, yes, start here.

What I’ve noticed is that when I let myself begin with the thing that has life in it, the rest of the day starts to organize itself differently. There’s less dragging myself across the floor. Less arguing with myself. Less pretending that if I just get more disciplined, everything will suddenly feel clear.

And weirdly, more often than not, the things that I thought would take forever get easier once I’ve stopped trying to force them too early.

Sometimes, without even knowing it, I need to let something sit. Sometimes an email, a class idea, a piece of writing, or a creative decision needs a little time to work itself out under the surface. If I push too soon, I make it harder. I get tangled. I start trying to think my way into something that hasn’t fully arrived yet.

But if I follow the yes, the “not now” thing is still there. It’s just percolating. It’s softening. It’s becoming clearer as I do the thing that actually has energy.

This is something I have to remember all the time, because I am very good at being interested in many things at once.

Right now, there are Artful Crone recordings I need to make. There are projects I’m shaping. There are ideas for July that are already tugging at me, asking to be played with. There are things in the studio that feel exciting and alive, and there are also very real business tasks that need my attention soon.

It would be easy for me to turn all of that into pressure. And sometimes I do.

I look around and think, there is not enough time in the day. There are not enough days in the month. How am I supposed to make all of this? Record all of this? Write all of this? Sell all of this? Keep everything moving and still feel like a whole human being?

That’s usually when I know I need to come back to the yes.

The yes? It’s not a magic wand. It doesn’t solve every issue on my calendar. But it brings me back into a more grounded relationship with my own energy.

So today, I sat with the question again. I got my answer. I sat down and wrote this for you.