Today, I want to talk about giving ourselves lots of grace as we learn and grow, pulling examples from writing, boundary setting, and spellcasting, and how this helps us to be more effective in life…and in magic.

First, the writing example, because this is what got me thinking about the fact that everything in life is iterative, even though we often pretend that it’s not, thereby causing ourselves all kinds of angst.

As of this week, I’m midway through what I hope is the last major round of revisions on my romance novel.

I’m very ready to be done, because, one, I want to get this super-fun project out into the world, and two, I reallyreallyreally want to start book two of the series (each book is themed to one of the 22 major arcana cards, and I can already hear the Magician’s sweet siren song 🎶).

I’ve been blown away by how many drafts fiction writing requires, as opposed to non-fiction—at least, that’s been my experience. This process has helped me to cultivate way more creative patience, but also heaps of compassion when I don’t get something “right” the very first time.

📝 I mean, does anyone?

Here’s David Sedaris from his MasterClass (and shout out to Holisticism for reminding me of this little gem):

“Nine times out of ten, my only comment is you need to rewrite this, ah, 60 times. And most people donʼt even want to hear that you need to rewrite it one time. But thatʼs what writing is—itʼs rewriting…But I would say, personally, I probably write something over 12 to 18 times before I give it to my editor.ˮ

And Sedaris is in very good company.

I binge-watched dozens of writing MasterClasses last year, and N.K. Jemison, Neil Gaiman, Margaret Atwood, R.L. Stine (who has such a delightfully dry sense of humor, btw!), Salman Rushdie—the list goes on—all emphasized how much of writing is actually rewriting.

How can we apply this experimental, work-in-progress attitude to the rest of life—for instance, with boundary setting?

If you’re attempting to set a boundary with your mom, unless you’re a toddler (go you, Tiny Tot, for being able to read this email!), that’s a relationship that has been forged over the course of decades.

Is it reasonable to expect that you’ll be able to change everything in a ten-minute conversation? That’s an awful lot of pressure to pile on those ten minutes.

What if we viewed boundary setting, like all aspects of a relationship, as iterative?

(I mean, it kinda just is, whether we view it this way or not).

You don’t have to get it right—whatever that even means—in one conversation. In fact, you probably won’t, and that’s no cause to beat yourself up.

But even if, intellectually, we know we don’t have to do things perfectly, it can nonetheless feel that way.

For me, this is where Internal Family Systems really comes in handy, because I can work with inner parts who are fixated on perfection as a strategy for keeping me “safe.” (I show you how to work with inner parts in the context of boundary setting ​in this course​.)

This feeling can get exacerbated if you’re interacting with someone who tends toward shaming and blaming.

💡This is where getting clear on your personal values is extremely helpful.

For instance, one of my values is being as authentic as I can in my relationships while also being kind. (As in, I’m not using the motto “Just speakin’ my truth!” as an excuse for being an a-hole.)

Kind, however, is not synonymous with people-pleasing, and that kindness also extends to myself—as in, it is a personal value to be kind to myself, as well as to other people.

Another personal value is doing my best to be clear about what I need and want, and in a more general sense, to be clear about what I mean. I come from a family where obfuscation and silence is frequently used to avoid conflict, but instead, it tends to increase conflict, generate resentment, and preclude genuine connection.

As an adult, I’m continually learning how to be more clear and direct, in a kind manner.

If I’m setting a boundary with someone, knowing that my personal values are being clear, direct, and kind gives me a tangible goal going into this conversation, as well as a metric for assessing whether there’s anything I’d like to adjust moving forward.

For instance, when I had conflict with a family member over the holidays…

…in reviewing the conversation in my journal, I felt in alignment with my personal values in the kindness department, and on the whole, I was very proud of how clear and direct I was, given how difficult this has been for me, historically, with this particular person, but I also noticed an area where I could have been even more clear.

While I was able, in that conversation, to clearly state how I was feeling, which was a major growth point, things started to get muddy when it came time to communicate what I needed as a result of those feelings.

Knowing that life is iterative, though, meant this wasn’t cause to rail on myself. It was a chance to refine my skills.

And as life would have it, I had an “opportunity” to practice this with an acquaintance a few weeks later. This time, I was able to kindly state what I was feeling…and what I needed.

Did the other person respond well? Nope. Not even a little bit. 🙃 But I nonetheless felt in alignment with my personal values. (It also helped to remember that this acquaintance has a pattern of responding to everyone this way, so it wasn’t really personal.)

The point, here, is that you don’t have to be perfect, even if someone else chooses to magnify your missteps and use them as ammo.

For me, I value:

trying my best,

accepting that I’ll make mistakes and taking ownership of my actions,

and learning from them for next time,

…and I strive to extend that grace to others. If someone is hung up on shaming and blaming, this likely isn’t someone I’ll stay in a relationship with, because our values differ, and in an area that’s important to me.

But if you do decide to continue a relationship that includes this dynamic, this is one of those admittedly tough situations where you have to keep reminding yourself of your values, even if the other person doesn’t agree.

Last but not least, let’s tie this in with spellcasting.

Many years ago (we shan’t talk about how many, exactly) when I was a baby witch, I saw spells as very binary affairs: they either worked or they didn’t.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that, with this mindset, my spells were much more focused on outer-world change—either altering external circumstances or changing other people (the latter is a type of spellwork I will no longer touch with a forty-foot pole).

If we relate this to our boundary-setting example, this is the equivalent of going into the conversation with the goal of getting the other person to agree (outer focus) versus the goal of clearly stating what you need (inner focus).

🔮 I think we miss a lot of valuable lessons when we approach magic from this stance.

Let’s say I cast a money spell for $500, and I get $200 instead, so I label the spell a failure.

Now, it’s possible that I didn’t raise sufficient energy to power the spell, or my life doesn’t have enough enchantable money pathways for it to work (for example, if I have a salaried job with zero opportunity for bonuses).

But it’s also possible that other things changed as a result of the spell, but because I was so focused on one particular outer-world effect, I missed those things entirely.

For instance, maybe I got a stellar idea for a new course, but I was too busy waiting for the money to magically appear that I didn’t follow up on that cosmic nudge by creating and launching said course.

Being more curious and less apt to quickly proclaim something as “not working” helps us refine our magical strategy for next time. Is magic dropping lots of hints after we cast the spell that could lead to more cash, but we’re stuck in a passive POV, waiting for outer circumstances to change without our participation?

I believe an iterative mindset, whether we’re dealing with romance novels or boundaries or spells, encourages us to adopt a more active role.

It gives us permission to experiment rather than needing to nail it on the first try.

It invites us to get clear on what’s truly within our zone of influence.

It helps us release our white-knuckled grip on stuff that’s out of our control, like whether people will like the book, or how they’ll respond to our boundary, or whether a spell will unfold precisely the way we thought.

When we don’t have to get it right the first time, we’re less likely to give up before the second. Or the fourth. Or the one-hundredth.

Perfection is an illusion. It’s a trap that walls us off from valuable exploration and continual growth.

It’s all iterative.

So…what are you going to try next?

Happy New Moon 🌑