Turning up your inner volume
One of the most valuable things I’ve learnt as an adult is that when I get the feeling that I want the rest of the world to go away, or to turn down “the noise”, what I really mean is that I need to turn up my own inner volume instead.
In those moments, the outside world is like constant radio interference in my brain - two or three channels competing for the same bandwidth.
We receive so much information, stimulus and aggressive marketing on a daily basis, that it’s no wonder a lot of us are feeling overwhelmed.
In this human-centric world, things are volatile - the news cycle is (deliberately) endless and the algorithms are designed to hook you and not let you go.
A lot of us are actively looking for alternatives. For pockets of peace online away from bots, trolls and influencers. For more creative communities. Hopeful news. Deep, explorative writing rather than hot takes. Ways to connect.
Yet, wherever we go, the spectre of late-stage capitalism follows us, relentlessly pursuing any opportunity to further demand that we monetise our time and attention, even our hobbies and relationships.
Our attention is the most valuable asset we have. It is our unique way of perceiving and feeling the world. The most generous gift we can give to someone else.
One of the few choices we have left is where we put that attention. Who or what gets it. Whether we prioritise inner or outer noise.
Becoming more discerning
Discernment is not a word I used a lot when I was younger. To me it had connotations of people sniffing wine, dinner suits, the Ferrero Rocher advert. So, it’s strange that in the last few years since turning forty, I come back to it again and again.
With age (and a lot of self-work) I’ve become more aware of the choices that I can make. Things I can say no to. What I can ask for. I’m more discerning about how I use my time and who gets to share in it. With that has come greater awareness about how I feel around different people and how to draw clear boundaries in relationships. I’ve walked away from jobs and relationships that weren’t healthy, all thanks to discernment.
It figures in the creative process too. In a recent writing workshop when I was asked what my goal was, I said, “to become more discerning about my work.” Which is another way of saying - I want to make good choices for my writing - the right ones where possible, but overall to be aware of the act of decision making - how things feel, what’s good and what isn’t, and where I want to go next.
In what ways are you discerning about your time and energy?
How does discernment play a part in your creative process?
Turn up your own volume
The thing about wanting everyone else to go away means that inadvertently you are giving external people and situations priority over yourself. I often wish I’d been taught at a younger age to build a base for self-trust, intuition and listening to my body. Imagine if that was on the school curriculum!
I feel lucky that as I’ve got older, I’ve unpicked and unlearnt a lot of social conditioning and become aware of that quiet, solid voice that was always there but often drowned out by shoulds or fear.
It’s most definitely an ongoing process - how can I really know myself?
I think the answer is the same as if you applied it to anyone else - spend quality time and stay curious.
I often wonder how different the world would be if we all had access to professional therapeutic spaces. I know how much I’ve benefited from and healed with therapy, coaching and bodywork. And I’m also aware what a privilege it is to be able to pay for those sessions.
But the essence of you is always there - and accessing that heart-centre doesn’t have to come from paid for activities. Journalling and walking are the two things that always bring me back to the truth of myself.
I started journaling using the Morning Pages from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. But I’ve found more and more that I want to be intentional about what I’m inquiring into.
I’m going through a period of personal and professional change at the moment, so the questions I keep revisiting are: How can I stay with the unknown today? What am I resisting at the moment? What do I think “knowing” will save me from?
Writing a response to these questions has helped me let go of some old habits around needing to know and fixing things, i.e. getting a new plan together quick-smart.
Any open question from, What am I avoiding right now? to How do I feel about expressing my anger? then freewriting with a timer set for ten or fifteen minutes will give you a deeper insight into what’s really going on. And a daily habit of this self-inquiry turns up the inner volume a lot.
A good question to start with could be, What would turning up my inner volume look like for me?
Building self-trust
You build trust with yourself in the same way that you build trust in other relationships - through good communication, boundaries, realistic expectations and keeping promises.
One of the reasons why we sometimes want everyone else to go away is because we’re engaged in self-abandonment rather than self-trust.
Self-abandonment is anything that takes us away from our own personal values. It can be something simple like going for drinks with people whose company you don’t really enjoy, to really big people pleasing actions like saying yes to a marriage proposal to keep the peace. An excellent resource for anyone who wants to work on recovering from this is The Joy of Saying No by Natalie Lue.
We’re brought up to trust external authority more than our own selves. A return to self-trust is a long process, but like everything, starting small and building awareness is key.
What small promises could you keep with yourself this week?
What could you say no to that really doesn’t feel right for you?
Creative community
If you’ve dreamt of shutting the world out lately, you might have imagined moving to a cabin in the woods. Or going on retreat. Or just having a hot bath by yourself. Anything to get some headspace.
Whilst solitude is an important part of the creative process, it’s not the only part. Sometimes when we’re feeling overwhelmed by information, we avoid everyone, even the people we really need.
What if the answer is that we are not meant to do this alone?
What if a large part of this constant exhaustion comes from trying to do for yourself what “your village” would do? What if holding ourselves up in the face of this strange and noisy world we are living in, is not something that can or needs to be done alone?
Artist Anna Brones says, “Creativity is a constant collaboration with the world around us.” She recently wrote a heartening call to, “make space for deeper friendships centred around creativity, what I like to call creative cohorts, that use art and creativity as the container for the gathering.”
Who could you ask for help? Be it practical: Can you mind the kids for an hour? or Can you tell me about how you did X? Or emotional: Can you hold space for me to talk this idea through? or Can you give me some positive feedback about X?
My writing changed for the better when I joined London Writers’ Salon. Being in this writing community helped me to understand some of my own inner resistance and fixed mindset around writing and being a writer. The mutual support was invaluable at a time when I was ready to give up.
One of my favourite creative spaces is
Clare Mulvany’s Poetry Salon - a warm and inquisitive gathering for reading poetry and talking about how it lands. It’s a great example of art as a container for deeper conversations.
So, who could you call into a creative gathering from your own circle? Or is there a creative space you could join? Do you need to find your creative cohort - if so, why not leave a call out in the comments?
How can you be in community and help each other reach for what’s needed?
Turning up the inner volume means that your relationship with yourself will always be the easiest to hear, even if there’s other noise in the room.
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