Last week I very quietly deleted all the recipes off my blog
I did this because I realised that—apart from a couple of soup recipes posted last year when I was sick—I hadn’t posted a recipe in years.
I did this to make space for what matters (to me), and while food is um, important and delicious (obviously), writing about it isn’t what lights me up (obviously; see point above).
I did this because I have a few beautiful things I’m working on over the next few months and into the new year, and although the recipes weren’t taking up new energy, time or space, they were still holding energy and space.
And while they were holding energy and space from a wonderful time in my life—a time when I identified so much more strongly with nutritional medicine than I do now with energetic healing, and while that’s still beautiful and perfect and has led me here – I just had to make space for what’s to come, and that meant deleting the old recipes.
Lately, I’m also being really clear on where I invest my energy on a daily basis, especially now as I focus on these new beautiful things I want to create (well, they’ve been created on some level already via intention and creativity and flow, I just have to make space to bring them into fruition, and into the world).
In making space (whether it’s on my website or in my calendar, in my heart or in my mind), I find I am so clear and confident in saying no with love to things that don’t light my fire, so I can keep my fire burning.
In saying no with love, I’ve realised something (or rather, I keep being reminded of it)…
Saying yes to make others feel better doesn’t serve you.
If there’s something you want to create in this world, you need to honour the space you need to create it, even if that feels hard (or if it means deleting years of old blog posts!).
You need to honour this even if you feel conflicted.
You need to honour this even if you’re not sure why you’re saying no.
If your gut feeling is no, that’s a no, thank you.
If your body feels contracted at the thought of agreeing to someone else’s plan or idea – to serve them or placate them or make them feel happy at your expense in fear of “rocking the boat” – that’s a no, thank you.
If you feel resentful when someone even begins to ask you something, that’s a no, thank you.
If you find yourself trying to think up ways to get out of something before you’ve responded, that’s a no, thank you.
If you wish you hadn’t ever been asked, that’s a no, thank you.
Making space for what matters means saying yes to what lights you up, and let’s be honest, it’s okay if not everything lights you up. (How could it, anyway?)
And when I say “make space”, it doesn’t necessarily mean you need to shut the world out and go and write in a cabin in the woods for a few weeks, as lovely as that sounds. It might just mean you make space (for any length of time) that feels mindful, conscious, intentional, on purpose.
Don’t wait for space to choose you; choose to make it for yourself.
You can say no simply.
Thank you so much, but no thank you.
Not for me this time, but thank you.
I’m not available for that, but here’s someone who might be…
I don’t think we’re the right fit for this, but thanks so much for thinking of me and I wish you all the best with it.
Also: just no, thank you.
It’s okay to make space for what matters
And to do that, you have to say no sometimes (with love and clear boundaries and generosity, but not with guilt and anxiety and fear).
Give yourself permission to say no, thank you.
Make space for what matters (to you).