On Embracing Our Inner Flake
Why taking a break is sometimes the answer
It’s been a while, but today I feel inspired to pop in and say hello!
Pausing my writing here has proved enlivening. It feels liberating to embrace my inner flake for a change. I’m far too good at flogging myself, and fulfilling every commitment I make, to the letter. Glitter and Biscuits is supposed to be a place to let my hair down and simply share nuggets others may find nourishing. I’m not sure how it became an obligation. That’s one to unpack another time.
But I’m happy to report, that I’ve been writing more than ever. My book, or at least the latest stage of the process, is almost complete. [Declaring that is possibly jinxing it, but also may make it be even more true. Let’s go with the second one.]
I’ve nearly written to you these past months. Many times. But have stopped myself. Or more accurately, caught myself. Partly to get the damn book over the line. But there’s more to it than that.
My relationship to throwing myself into the online void has always been a rocky one, but this is what feels true, right now:
[These truths also feel a little naïve. Like does this woman actually get that this is the 21st century, not the eighties, naïve. But they also feel truly true, like deep in my bones true.]
…I want my words to live in a spaces that feel more sacred, than a blog or social media post, despite how warm and fuzzy a place I know Substack to be. One place I’ve been hanging out in lately, is an intimate circle of other women on a similar journey of creative reclamation. I’ve read my poetry aloud. Listened with wonder to theirs. It has been healing. Restorative. It has filled me up.
…But I also want to make something I can see and feel and stroke with my fingertips. I want to write books, and offer them, and know they are out there, being curled up with, touching people in ways I will never know about.
…I want to make more art, less content. Comments, and like buttons, and chat threads excite me far less than a live audience, or analogue reader. Not because I don’t love people. Not because I don’t want connection (I do!), but because something about the online world doesn’t feel enough or natural; something about it jars my soul.
It makes me feel like an avatar rather than a living, breathing person. I want my online sharing to spark real-life, real-time conversations where I can look into another human’s eyes. But in and of itself it is not a substitute. Not when it comes to the kinds of stories and truths and perspectives I want to share.
Perhaps a neat summary is that my pause on writing here is helping me become clearer on what I want to share, where, and when.
The creative wound for me has always been [and I sense will always be] the fear of what happens next, once I allow another human to see into my soul through what I make. The rhythm of weekly posting here has no doubt helped dissolve some of that.
But what I’m seeing with new clarity is that there is nuance, and discernment to be exquisitely practiced when we make what we feel inspired to.
At times I have treated being visible and sharing what I make as an Olympic sport. Something to be conquered. And that doesn’t feel good.
Recently I was asked, in relation to my longing to share my stories: What are you in service to?
The answer appeared in my heart immediately.
I am in service to the reclamation of Joy [yes - I am capitalising Joy. She is real and she deserves to be capitalised.]
My own Joy, and inspiring others to reclaim theirs.
But my sense is that the second part of that sentence is not something I can try to do. It will either happen, or it won’t. All I can do is focus on the first part. Listen and follow what Joy tells me to do.
And I notice as I write this, what I fear is your eyes rolling into the back of you head. Because what also lives in my bones, is the belief that Joy is a reward. We have to earn it. We have to be ‘good’ before we can have it. Duty calls as a parent, a breadwinner, a spouse. The pursuit of Joy isn’t a responsible or noble or admirable one. It is self-indulgent. Not what a good woman focuses on. And if she does, she should keep it to herself.
But what if Joy isn’t necessarily intrinsically tied to any life role? What if it is something to be sourced from deep within ourselves?
What if it is our birthright, just as breathing air and drinking water is. What if we all deserve Joy simply by existing.
To me, Joy is that feeling of being full. My soul, my heart, actually feeling as though they might burst right out of my chest. It’s not the same thing as ‘feeling happy,’ though it can inspire feelings of happiness. It’s more of an underlying way of being that allows us to navigate the sometimes unbearable pain of being a human in this world, at this time.
It is also a choice.
It is the choice to do what makes us feel alive, amidst all that we must do to stay alive.
We all need money and food and shelter, we may have people we need to take care of, a thousand and one responsibilities, causes we feel compelled to support - but when self-sourced Joy is what we choose first thing in the morning, if only for a few minutes, perhaps everyone, and everything in our orbit wins.
These past months my focus has been on sourcing Joy, and allowing her to flow more freely than ever into all parts of my life, including my book. Dancing more, enjoying more art, being out there in the world - in real-life.
And today, for some unknown reason, it feels joyful to say - hello! I am still here! Still alive! Despite not existing online for almost four months.
[Yep - it’s true. I promise. If you don’t exist online you still exist! Before my pause I think I lost sight of that. How embarrassing.]
In fact, I feel more alive than I did in January, as I worried about what I would write here, because I had promised to ‘show up’ every week.
I feel alive, voicing what I am sharing with you here, because I know I am not the only human who ties herself in knots confusing healthy structure with obligation. With believing that once you say you are going to do something, it has to be that way forever more.
I am celebrating my inner flake and saying hello to yours. Hello!
It is a valuable part of us, not to be overlooked.
Our inner flake - when in service to our soul - can allow us to channel our energy and love into what truly matters. It can help us have the expression we truly wish to have.
Thank you for your company here :)
I’ll be posting sporadically rather than weekly, until further notice and will be keeping all paid subscriptions on pause until where I’m taking this project becomes even clearer.
With love and shimmies to you :)
Claire
p.s. If you know someone who may enjoy this letter, do share it with them :)
Find me elsewhere:
Instagram: @clairemackinnonwrites
Website: clairemackinnon.com
LinkedIn: Claire Mackinnon
I’ll come back to this post again and again, Claire. I was reading it with a joyful ‘hell yeah’ in my belly.
I completely resonate. I do the same thing. My first post here was about intentional inconsistency and then I went and applied my overachiever logic to the whole thing and I’m in the process of recentering it all back to my art. Thanks for writing this. 🥰