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4am Sticky Marshmallow.

I didn't understand.

As I spoke with questioning to a guru, vehemently explaining that I was doing the work yet progress felt like walking through melted marshmallow. It was sticky and ease had long given up on sitting with me at the table.

I continued, "I am waking at 3:50am writing in my journal, meditating, stretching, I do the work". I spend more time now than ever on creating the ritual and it's not working.

This effort seemingly meet by said guru with an unease, a vailed reply bemusing the potential lack of care or focused energy on my behalf perhaps, that was being poured into my early hours.

Nothing felt right, everything I have read told me that these were beautiful practices designed to bring joy and an even higher level of elevation to your life. It simply felt awkward to be honest, to much trying, too little flow. Yet this is my time of day, the stillness, the light, the beauty of how the day will unfold in the hours to follow. This is when I am my highest self, yet not for what felt like too long.

This morning I sat in the early hours with my journal, white leaf tea and the freshness of the new day. I inhaled a long slow breath, pausing for a moment at the top to smile and then exhaled into the flow that had eluded me for such a long time. There at 4am was the flow I had been craving. As my pen started to write the electricity that flooded my mind and body felt magical.

And there it was and had been.

Yet for all that I have learnt I had been lost, the art of the truest lesson.

It was the daily practice of making myself aware of what I wanted to create and the choices that were required for it to happen that would guide me from unease to flow.

It was turning up daily that taught me to show up for what I wanted. Not just in the early hours when my pen ran the pages of my journal or my voice carried OM into the world. It was in each choice made thereafter hour by hour, across a day, a week and many months that would allow my arrival at the very point of the creation I desired.

To the clarity, that flow could freely dance through uninhibited without fear or self judgement.

It was the practice of turning up each morning, moving through the unease and discomfort of the process as awkward as it felt, that taught me to show up for myself.

Ritual had finally aligned with peace and the early hours could be cherished once more.

Here is my question, do you feel the unease of the practice until you feel the flow of freedom in your desire?

Bec x

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