When I Don’t Know What to Do

What do you do when you don’t know what to do?

I stop, and I surrender.

At some point I noticed I’m walking around with a combustion of energy twenty-four seven — eager to transfer it into creation. It’s so alive that if I could release it from my fingertip it would probably spark. I crave channelling it into my own work when I know what I’m shaping… and into someone else’s ambition when I can see their potential so clearly I want to help it come to fruition. Healing a wound. Doing something kind. Believing in someone before they can.

Do I manifest? Yes.

Do I sometimes not know what to do with it? Also yes.

That’s why I buzz with enthusiasm — with momentum — because it can feel like containing electricity that just wants to make light. And stillness can feel unfamiliar when you’re used to motion.

For a long time I thought I had to do something with it — or safely pour it out.

But not all energy is meant to be spent.

Some of it is meant to be surrendered — returned back to Source.

And most often than not, when I’ve been brave enough to do that, remarkable things I’d never even think of have occurred. Some might call them miracles. Some might call them profound. I just know they weren’t forced. They arrived.

Carrying that energy has been my default. Switching it to surrender took some getting used to — because it meant I’d receive. And for someone who only knew how to over-give, that took some serious adjustment.

If you’re reading this as permission to procrastinate, I need to say this gently: it isn’t. Rest is real. But so is responsibility. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is send the email, write the page, make the move, do the work — and stop waiting for the perfect mood to arrive.

Surrender isn’t avoidance — at least, it wasn’t for me. It was learning the balance between releasing control and finding contentment in the doing nothing.

I resisted meditation for as long as I can remember. I didn’t want to sit still with myself. I didn’t want the quiet. In reflection, I think I told myself it “wasn’t the right time” — without truly understanding why. And if I could speak to that former self now, I’d tell her: it wasn’t that you couldn’t do stillness… it’s that you hadn’t yet healed the parts you didn’t want to sit with.

But what if the real mastery is this: action when action is needed, rest when rest is needed — and the courage to stop creating long enough to let life meet you. To build a peaceful place inside yourself, so when it’s time to receive… you can be cosy in yourself, not gripped by trauma, regrets, expectations, fear, guilt, anxiety, anticipation, failure, haunting memories — or even the pressure to feel inspired.

Instead, the knowing: Ahh… I’ve done the healing now. I can surrender, and be worthy of receiving.

So I say: make the time. Everything has its time.

Even healing can be achieved in stillness.

And receiving? That’s catapulted once you’re in alignment.