Happy First Birthday to Going Gently 🎂
Why NOT giving you what you want will be better for both of us
I’ve been writing here for a whole year. How has it been? A mixture of sparkling highs and painful lows. Here’s why…
I arrived last January with a very old mailing list of 643 people. Some were lovely folk who knew me from my days of running a mindful writing company & before (I’m not going to count the decades because that will make me feel old). I began to write - my first post was about a dog, a blanket and a postponed potato. I kept writing.
Here I am with 170 published pieces. I wrote self-study courses and recorded my first video about Internal Family Systems wearing a sparkly jumper1. I confessed to jealousy, rage, and being afraid. I wrote popular pieces like the Going Gently Guide to Success. I wrote about my dad’s last days (he died in April). I shared my top ten (pretty nerdy) books. I reflected on the goddamn unpredictability of it all.
I have mostly2 found being here a total delight. There are no adverts. I am in control of how things look. I have met many lovely fellow writers, and found 1163 new readers over the year. If I imagine that many people crowded into the temple garden, it amazes me. (Hello, you all! Waving!)
So far so good. What has been tricky?
The difficult stuff is nothing to do with this place and everything to do with me.
From time to time, being here has driven me a teensy bit crazy. I have always had parts of me3 that believe I am worthless, and in an attempt to compensate I put lots of energy into behaving in ways that (attempt to) draw attention and praise towards me.
I check my subscriber numbers too often. I get lost on Notes, doom-scrolling or envying annoyingly talented writers. I endlessly strategize. I lie awake thinking not about what my heart yearns to write, but what might bring me more popularity. It brings an ickyness4 to my insides.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to be read and with wanting my writing to earn me decent money. I do! What is problematic is when the plotting and striving overtakes the sacred work of writing, and steals time and attention from other important things in my life, like walking amongst trees or fussing dogs or reading Rumi.
In summary, writing this newsletter has been exactly like doing life.
Sometimes I feel insecure. I try to manage this by obsessing and second-guessing what you want from me and working too hard and contorting myself into shapes that don’t quite suit me. This makes me feel bad. Well spotted, dear reader - the exact opposite of going gently.
What’s the solution?
At times like these, I remember the voice of the marvellous
. Here’s what he said about his newsletter:I'm not doing it for you, friends. I'm doing it for me and what I feel compelled to contribute to the world and you participate in the sharing and shaping of it. Despite occasional moments of weakness to the contrary, I try not to think or care too much what your expectations are. I think it's better for both of us that way. ~ Chris La Tray from An Irritable Métis
So. My solution is to keep endeavouring to disconnect the results (subscription numbers, popularity, income) from the process (the writing).
Just as I disconnect the results of my eco-activism (not a single person has stopped to hear me read my poem to the Earth yet, in four months of daily public readings) from the process (I get to read the Earth a prayer every day, and sit in silence in the weather for ten minutes - what a gift).
My solution is to keep reminding myself that this is a sacred space.
That I am only really a humble channel, and that the ‘right’ writing will funnel through me if I keep trying to get out of the way.
My solution is to remember that I don’t need anything in return.
That if my income from writing goes down, I will find other ways to support myself and I will keep writing. That if I get less popular, to remember that what other people think of me is none of my business. To remember that I won’t find what I’m looking for out there anyway.
My solution is to remember that I love to write.
That it’s not really about ‘not giving you what you want’, but ‘not giving you what I think you want’. It’s about not letting my self-protective needs constrain my creativity or my courage or my compassion. It’s about being free.
I’m sure I’ll continue to stumble in all the particular ways I specialise in. You’ll have your own specialties, I’m sure. I haven’t yet found a cure for being human. I have found an antidote for the pain of impermanence and limitation - if only I didn’t keep forgetting to take it… 😉 I’ll keep falling over and getting up, falling over and getting up.
Falling over. No better way than to keep the muscles limber, than to weave humility into our being, than to remember gratitude. Sometimes I linger on the floor for a while, my tense shoulder muscles slowly melting, and gaze at the clouds. Aaaah.
Anything else before I go?
I would like to share this most pleasing graph from July again, with its gorgeously curvaceous numbers - never again will the numbers align in such a way!
I would also like to put my hands together in front of my heart and bow deeply before you.
It is a complete privilege to be writing for you.
I hope that some of you will join me for a second year of mess and magic. We’ll be going gently, and in going gently we’ll go further and deeper and wider and to the most unexpected places and... oh, it’s going to be JUST lovely.
Go gently,
Satya <3
PS I’m currently working on a new series called Begin Again With Gentleness. It will go out every Monday so we can ‘reorient’ towards gentleness at the start of every week (I don’t know about you but I need frequent reminders!) Maybe you’ll join me by becoming a Supporter.
I have an even more sparkly one with colourful sequins that I bought for Christmas - maybe I’ll wear that one next. Sequins are important.
There was the whole Substack Nazi thing, which is a long story I won’t go into here except to say that, after watching closely & listening to people I respect & after much deep reflection, I am staying for the meantime - with the proviso that I will keep speaking up when I can. And, that there is no such thing as a perfect platform/person/place to write.
Parts = Internal Family Systems - here’s my intro with puppies.
Apparently there’s no such work as ickyness but I think you know what I mean.
Happy belated blog birthday, Satya! It’s been wonderful to cross paths with you again here, and I really appreciate reading your reflections. It’s so true, isn’t it, the way we do Substack is the way we do life. Thank heavens for practice! 🙏🏼❤️
Happy First Birthday. Your love of writing shows here. I’m in a small group of photographers and aspiring writers on a course at the moment and have again shared a link to Small Stones on your website - they loved it, so thank you again. I’m still writing a small stone each day.