Unplanned Hiatus

Somewhere I lost my way. It happens to us all at some point. Getting back into the writing saddle has been more challenging than I expected this time.

It was innocent, the loss. Or so it seemed. Until I realized one day there was something missing. It’s as if I left my best friend behind at a rest stop and it took many miles before I saw my friend was no longer in the car. Yet it’s worse than that because I was left with a sense of loss without understanding what the loss even was for some time.

During this time I’ve allowed myself to be distracted and not all in healthy ways. It seems that imbalance is inevitable and when we find ourselves out of balance, how we respond is more important than the actual loss of balance.

I’ve also allowed life circumstances to chip away at my resolve to write and share, having already felt too vulnerable. Yet, I see now where this was a fallacy. It is in writing and sharing that leads to better understanding, at least that’s what works for me.

So cheers to getting back in the saddle! Now to find the sunset, the partner in crime and the horses… 😉 🌅

May we all be well in our journeys, understanding that where we have taken side trails that it is just part of the learning process.


Writer’s Block: The Pursuit of Perfection

Words typically flow through my mind like a raging river. Recently, the flow stopped in a way it had never done before. I felt frozen, cold and isolated, as if in a shell. A shell, it turns out, I had imposed upon myself and reinforced.

Breathing through the stagnation, spending more time in meditation and “just writing” were not helping – my usual strategies. My frustration only grew; as did my tendency to catastrophize.

Usually I can walk away from writing if it’s not working. Now that I’ve stepped up my game and started writing a book, I’ve been putting more pressure on myself to produce.

I see how I was pushing against the very thing I desired. The more I pushed myself to write, the less I was able to produce. Much like trying to force yourself to go to sleep; it doesn’t work. Sleep, like creativity, just happens when we allow it to. 

In my pursuit of words, they just ran faster. I also see where I was blocking myself by wanting the words to flow perfectly. I froze and isolated myself with the pursuit of perfection.

Our faith is most tested in the darkness, when we cannot see the light.

Feeling stuck, I reached out to friends for help. I asked for them to see me writing in a warm, sunny and free way. Perhaps this was a lesson in surrender as much as it was in asking for help; something I am loathe to do.

The river’s flow has returned, but in a more subtle way. The words are there, but I must surrender further to hear them.

In taking a step back, I see where I do this in many areas of my life.  Pushing. Pulling. Pursuing perfection. Today, I am surrendering and trusting a little more deeply.




the words pour out

like blood onto the pages

pumping never ceases

tirelessly one must

pour more blood in

for the letting

Painter of words 

As a writer I paint words,
replacing brushstrokes
with keystrokes.

Just like Hemingway said,
writing is just bleeding,
except now it’s at the keyboard.

oops! and this post makes 3,
past my quota of 2 max/day.
at least it’s a quick read?!

(C) tiffanybeingfree.com 2016

This Flow of Words


The words flow

as if from a tap.

A wellspring

which has


The more

I write,

the more


the words



From my


to my lips,

the irritation

if I cannot


or try to


the words

that flow



I now know.


Last year,

I had to

crank and

crank the

pump handle

to get

but a few









The trickle

barely enough

to tickle

my fancy.


never enough

to wet

my whistle.


Now like a geyser,

the words rise

up out of me.

I cannot

seem to stop.

Nor do I want

to stop






Writing is…

My medicine.

The salve for my wounds.

It is my outlet, my inlet.

It gives me insight and perspective.

Through words I connect more deeply with myself and others.

Writing is my gateway to sanity, though I often write insanely.

Writing is my pleasure and my pain.

It is my balance and imbalance.

It is my breath. Through it I inhale and exhale: breathing, panting, gasping. Grasping. Releasing.

Writing is the fire in my belly that burns until expressed through my fingertips – my lips.

It is my passion and my dispassion.

My obsession, my lesson.

Writing is for me the burning embers of my desire; my soul’s truest expression on this plane.

Writing is in my soul. It is there that I connect to the All and beyond.

Writing is …. simply me.


Heart-to-Heart Conversation

This past Sunday, I had to have a heart-to-heart conversation with a dear friend. This person was becoming very sad that her efforts on a project did not seem to be appreciated. She had been doing a lot of work and she just did not feel that others were really seeing what she was doing.

When asked if she was enjoying what she was doing, she readily admitted that she was and her face lit up when she did. So I asked her some questions. First, I questioned, “What is your motivation, what are you doing this for?” She quickly replied, “Ultimately, I find that this project opens my heart and makes me feel alive. I am enjoying the process and what it is giving to me. If what I am doing is helping someone else other than just me, then that is just icing on the cake.” So, in essence, she was doing this work to help herself to move through the process of life. If her work helped just one other person, all the merrier.

My next question really seemed to help her to see the light. “So if you are really doing this to help yourself, then what does it matter if no one else seems to be appreciating your work? It’s your job to appreciate your efforts. Furthermore, you may be affecting others without even realizing it. Keep doing this for you. Keep enjoying what you are doing. Be sure to appreciate yourself for this self-care. You have had such a tendency to take care of everyone else first, or to only do a task if it was to someone else’s benefit first. This is your time to work on you. End of story. Like you said, it’s just icing on the cake if you help someone else.”

Later that evening, my friend was compelled to join some other friends for dinner, even though she had “other things to do.” While at dinner one of our friends that we had not seen for several months asked me about the work being done on this blog. She wanted to know if my post called, “This, again?!” was an original piece or not. I assured her that it was my original work. That evening she shared with me how this post had affected her in a very profound way. For several minutes, and then again later in a private message, she spoke to how she was moved by it and appreciated it.

You see, my work was done. I have affected the plus one and can now see the icing on the cake.

As you probably have guessed by now, my friend who felt unappreciated at the beginning of this post was me. The conversation “she and I” had was the “heart-to-heart” that I had with myself. The friend at dinner, well, she really is a friend that exists in a different body. And she really did spend that time telling me how much she appreciated my post.

By appreciating the benefits that my work had done for myself, I was able to receive appreciation from others. Since then, I’ve received more accolades from others regarding my work. It is my hope that you now find more ways to appreciate yourself for what you do for yourself and not just for others.


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