Do your Voodoos of Ambition Ever Get a Day Off?

I want to take you inside my favorite yoga studio in Santa Barbara. It’s called Yoga Soup, and it’s a giant, grounding mix of movement, actual nutrient-dense soup in a crockpot, fresh fruit from local trees, and community.

My husband Rob and I practice there a few times a week, and one of our favorite instructors—who is also a middle school English teacher—starts every class by reading a poem. She weaves its themes throughout our practice and reads it again at the end.

Now, I’ll be honest with you: these classes are often equal parts healing and deeply unsettling for me. Why? Because I’m in there without a notebook or phone, frantically trying to memorize brilliant lines so I don’t lose them!

A few weeks ago, she read a poem by Mary Oliver called “Today” from her 2012 collection A Thousand Mornings. One line hit me like a bolt of lightning:

“Today I’m flying low, and I’m not saying a word. / I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.”

I spent the rest of the class scrambling to hold onto that concept because the “voodoos of ambition” are my constant companions. They’re the noisy, bossy, pushy engine behind everything I make, write, and build. They drive the desire to “play big.” And if you’re listening to this podcast, I bet your voodoos are pretty loud, too.

But as I wrestled with Mary Oliver’s words, a new thought took root: What would happen if we actually let those voodoos take a day off?

In this Write Big session, I’m reflecting on:

* The double-edged sword of high ambition and why we need energy to drive big work.

* Why scrambling to capture every thought is just another “voodoo” in disguise.

* How giving your ambition a rest—letting it sink into child’s pose—is actually what allows it to wake up re-energized and full of life.

Writing big requires big energy, but it also requires rest. This week, I’m offering you a permission slip to fly low, be quiet as a feather, and let your ambition sleep for a little while.

Until next time, stop playing small and write like it matters!

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Books Mentioned

* A Thousand Mornings by Mary Oliver

Transcript

Hi, I’m Jennie Nash, and you’re listening to the #amwriting podcast, the place where we help writers of all kinds play big in your writing life, love the process, and stick with it long enough to finish what matters most. This is a Write Big session, where I’m bringing you short episodes about the mindset shifts that help you stop playing small and write like it matters.

Today, I’m talking about ambition, and specifically I’m talking about some thoughts on the poet Mary Oliver and desire And I want to tell you a story about my yoga studio and a particular yoga teacher that I adore. So my yoga studio in Santa Barbara, California, is called Yoga Soup, and what its name implies is that there’s all different kinds of things that happen in this space.

There’s all different kinds of yoga and all different kinds of teachers. It’s a giant mix of different kinds of ways of doing yoga, and [00:01:00] there’s also actual soup. In the front room of the studio, there are couches and a coffee table and benches, and there’s a Crockpot of soup. It’s made by a local soup kitchen that makes just killer local nutrient-dense soup.

And oftentimes there’s bread from the local bakery, and you can put $5 or $10 in the tip jar and sit down and have a bowl of warm soup, even on a warm day, which we often have here in Santa Barbara. There also tends to be bowls of things from the farmers market or from people’s trees. So there might be oranges or carrots or strawberries or something there that you can have.

And one of my practices is I love to come out of yoga class and sit down and have a carrot. It always makes me feel rooted in a very specific and physical way and grounded. So that’s the vibe of my yoga studio. And I practice yoga with my husband. It’s a thing that we do together, that we love to do together, and we try to do two or [00:02:00] three times a week.

Rob actually goes to yoga more than I do, and he is really good at it, and he’s really strong. And I know we’re not supposed to compare, but I do. But regardless, I love going with him and practicing alongside of him. And one of our favorite teachers is also a middle school English teacher. And at the start of every one of her yoga classes, she reads a poem, and then she weaves the lessons of that poem throughout the yoga practice.

So while you’re doing a pose or transitioning from one pose to another, or in your resting pose, she’ll talk about words or phrases or ideas from the poem, and then she usually reads it again at the end. And I, of course, love this so much because words and poems and weaving them all into movement, it just feels so healing and powerful, and I just adore it.

And I’m not alone. Her classes are always packed with all different kinds of people, and you have to get there early, and you have to bring your patience [00:03:00] because there’s so many people clamoring for this specific kind of experience. But oftentimes this class is also really hard for me because the teacher will say something in the middle that I wanna remember, and I’m in there without paper and I’m without my phone, and I feel sort of quite naked ‘cause I’m like, “I gotta write this down.

I gotta remember what she said,” because I’m not trusting that she’ll remember what she said if I went up to her after class and said, “What was it that you said about that thing?” And I’m not sure that I will remember correctly. And so I kind of spend the whole class in this panic about remembering whatever it was that she said.

I certainly am not gonna not try to remember. That’s just not in my DNA. So I often have somewhat unsettling experiences in this class as well. And a few weeks ago, the instructor shared a Mary Oliver poem, and I happen to know that Mary Oliver is one of her favorite poets. She often [00:04:00] reads things from her.

And I’ve read a lot of Mary Oliver, and I recognize a lot of the poems. But on this one day, this poem that she read, I had never heard of, and I couldn’t believe I’d never heard of it because it just blew my mind. I found out after class, my Googling told me that this poem is from the book A Thousand Mornings, which was published in 2012, and the poem is called Today Today I’m flying low, and I’m not saying a word.

I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep. The world goes on as it must, the bees in the garden rumbling a little, the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten, and so forth. But I’m taking the day off, quiet as a feather. I hardly move, though really I’m traveling a terrific distance. Stillness, one of the doors into the temple.

So there I am in yoga, scrambling to remember the line, letting all the voodoos

of ambition sleep. Because that [00:05:00] line, that concept, I was just like, “What? The voodoos?” I mean, trying to remember the line of a poem while doing yoga is one of those voodoos. The voodoos of ambition are all up in my brain, and they’re all over my body and my gut.

They just are my constant companion. And the second I heard that line, I was like, “Ugh, yes, I love the voodoos of ambition.” They’re what drive me and propel me and keep me coming up with ideas and things I wanna write and make and do. They are what is the engine of writing big and playing big. And there’s so much that I wanna make and write and do in the world.

And I feel like the voodoos of ambition get it. They’re dancing, and they’re cheering and propelling me on. But of course, I also find them hard to deal with because you know, the voodoos are so noisy. They’re so bossy. They’re so pushy and voodooy. And as soon as I heard that [00:06:00] poem, and as soon as I got home and studied it and looked at it again, I thought, “Gosh, what would it be like to not say a word and let the voodoos of ambition sleep?”

I don’t know, and I don’t know if I want to know. Flying low is not my natural way of being in the world. And when I thought about it, though, I thought, “You know, I bet those voodoos get tired.” And I imagine that they would love some time off, and that that would be for them like time to do yoga and lay down in child’s pose and just feel the support of the earth.

And when I imagined that, I imagined that that sleep would make those voodoos feel full of energy and alive when they got up to do their work again. And so I thought, “Okay, I’m gonna practice this, that tomorrow maybe I’ll just take a day off and try to be quiet as a feather.” And my reflection for you this week is to remember that writing [00:07:00] big, playing big, trying to do big things in the world absolutely requires some big energy and some up energy, and it requires some voodoos of ambition for sure.

But there’s also a place in this work of letting those voodoos have a little rest and letting them re-energize and letting them come back to life when they’re ready. I thought it was a good thing for us all just to remember. Until next time, stop playing small and write like it matters.

The hashtag amwriting podcast is produced by Andrew Perilla. Our intro music, aptly titled Unemployed Monday, was written and played by Max Cohen. Andrew and Max were paid for their time and their creative output because everyone deserves to be paid for their work.

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