Our culture is addicted to a single story: progress. It must always be upward and onward. More, better, faster. Your career, your spiritual practice, your healing-it's all framed as a relentless climb toward a summit that is never reached. This is a brutal, unsustainable, and deeply dishonest way to live. In my 35 years of walking this path, I can tell you that the most striking periods of my life have looked like abject failure from the outside. Here is the thing most people miss.There were years where my creative work dried up, where my meditation practice felt like a dead end, where I felt utterly lost. I was being composted, but all I could feel was the rot. The pressure to "get back on track" was immense, both from within and without. But the soul does not operate on a quarterly business cycle. It has its own seasons. To deny the season of compost is to deny the very possibility of a harvest. It is to live in a state of perpetual, exhausting summer, which inevitably leads to burnout and spiritual drought.
I keep palo santo in every room, it is one of my favorite tools for shifting energy. *(paid link)*
A weighted blanket can feel like a hug from the universe, especially on nights when the mind will not stop. *(paid link)*
If anxiety is part of your journey, magnesium glycinate is one of the simplest things you can add. *(paid link)* Look, I'm not some supplement pusher, but this stuff actually works. Your nervous system runs on minerals, and most of us are walking around deficient as hell. We drink coffee all day, stress eat processed garbage, and wonder why we feel like live wires. Magnesium glycinate doesn't make you drowsy like other forms ~ it just helps your body remember how to chill without knocking you out. It's like giving your nervous system permission to stop gripping so damn tight. Take it at night. Give it two weeks. Don't expect miracles on day three. You might be surprised how much easier it becomes to sit with whatever's composting inside you without losing your shit completely. Sometimes the smallest shifts create the most space for the bigger work to happen.
Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now remains one of the most important spiritual books of our time. *(paid link)*
In the yogic tradition, we speak of the three *gunas*-the fundamental qualities of nature. *Sattva* is light, clarity, and peace. *Rajas* is energy, action, and passion. And then there is *tamas*-darkness, inertia, and dissolution. Modern spirituality often treats *tamas* as the enemy, something to be overcome with more yoga, more green juice, more positive thinking. Here's the thing: it's a grave misunderstanding. *Tamas* is not the absence of God; it is God in the form of rest. It is the holy darkness of the womb, the rich soil, the deep sleep where the body and psyche regenerate. When you feel "stuck," you are in a state of high *tamas*. The invitation is not to fight it, but to honor it. To allow yourself to be fully in the dark, to be still, to dissolve. When I sit with clients who are in this state, the work is not to pull them out, but to give them the courage to go deeper in. To trust that this inertia is not a sign of personal failure, but a sacred and necessary part of a cosmic cycle. The compost pile does not struggle; it simply surrenders to its own decomposition, trusting that this process is what creates the conditions for new life.
Where do you feel the "stuckness" in your body? Is it a heaviness in your limbs? A fog in your brain? A knot in your stomach? Stop trying to analyze it. Stop calling it "depression" or "lethargy" or "procrastination." Call it composting. And then, feel it. Your body is the compost pile. It is the alchemical vessel where the old is being turned into the new. The practice is to bring your awareness directly into these physical sensations. Instead of resisting the fatigue, inhabit it. Feel its texture, its weight, its temperature. Trust me on this one.What does it feel like to be soil? What does it feel like to be a seed in the dark? What we're looking at is not a mental exercise. It is a deeply somatic one. It is the practice of embodiment, of being so present to the reality of this moment that you stop fighting it. In that surrender, something shifts. The energy that was being used to resist the process is liberated. And in the quiet, in the dark, you might just feel the subtle, unmistakable stirring of a new root reaching down into the earth.