A wider measure of progress than posts and deadlines.

When the surface goes still…

I stopped posting for a bit, and then it spiraled.

I don’t think I’ll ever be consistent in the strict sense, and I’m done calling that failure. I came to accept that life is fluid. There are chapters where focus reigns supreme, and I’m very output-oriented. There are times when other priorities take over.

And then, there are the times when seemingly everything comes to a halt for no apparent reason other than that it does. The surface looks still while everything rearranges underneath. I came to think of it as the composting stage - introspection, frustration, re-evaluation.

That inner work is invisible but necessary.

Progress isn’t output alone. It’s what shifts inside.

…and the signposts vanish

It started with a three-week loop through Western Europe. I went on a mission to visit people and places I haven’t seen in years. This is when other priorities took over, as I allowed myself to be present and available to my friends. But the stretch that was utterly frustrating and difficult to bear was the silent three weeks that followed.

I’ve been here enough times to know this is just a phase. And yet, the shadow of “you should keep on creating” lingered, more out of fear that, once I let go, I would lose control over the process. But I did let go, and time did pass. Days flowed one into another. Hours turned into days that turned into weeks, with nothing to show for.

I’m not talking about the clear to-dos and client commitments, but the work with no master but myself: the new offer launch, the Substack post, the small ripples on the surface that only happen if I make them happen. Once I stopped rowing, the current carried me away.

Keeping a consistent pace is what kept me steady. The schedule, the small commitments I set with myself, the weekly goals I’d tick off. These are the signposts with which I measure progress.

And when these signposts disappear for a while? Am I really not progressing?

…I drift with attention rather than force…

First of all, we need to let go of the obsession with measurement and somehow reframe our concept of progress. Progress is not linear. Life is not linear and yet in our illusion of control, we act as if we’re above the forces of life, as if we can impose our will over everything. But at what cost?When we recognize this, we can let go of guilt, shame, frustration and just be present with what is.Most creative frameworks mark this as the incubation window: you step back, but the work keeps reorganizing underneath. I’ve learned to treat it as a two-part rhythm: during (attention, no measuring) and after (ask what truly shifted).

In the water (during)

You don’t measure, track, or force. You let go and pay attention.

Instead of fighting the stream, allow yourself to drift with the flow. Progress is counted on the far shore.

But letting go doesn’t mean drifting unconsciously. Attention is what makes the difference, preventing the low tide from becoming self-abandonment. It lets you not measure while still staying in relationship to what’s happening.

Without it, drift can slide into dissociation; with attention, drift becomes integration. You’re not rowing, but you keep a soft gaze on what moves inside and around you. You’re noticing dreams, faint impulses, or that nagging thought that won’t leave.

There are many ways to go about it, but these are my go-to practices that helped me pay attention and pull me out of the drift:

Letting Old Selves die - process Oracle Card. Original creation Ana Bugalete

Creating as a way to express, not to show. Lately, that’s oracle cards made from collage - a process that I control only very lightly, where images find me before I can name them. One card from this stretch held “endings composting into a truer self,” and making it helped the feeling move.
Daily tarot. I pull one card every day, and ask, “What is the energy this day holds?” Often it confirms what I already know, but sometimes the card is unexpected, and so it forces me to look at things from a different perspective.
Dreamwork. Dreams are the primary channel through which your subconscious communicates with your consciousness. So I pay special attention. Every time I wake up remembering even a fragment of a dream, I speak it into a voice note and later sit with it over my morning coffee. I watch for repeating images, moods, symbols, and free associations.
Static or moving meditation. I sit, or walk, or dance and let breath lead, giving the body room to process what the mind can’t.
Journal drift. I fill a page with a stream of consciousness, absolutely no structure or goal, letting language surface in its own time.

Each of these modalities brought its own small “aha,” a piece of integration. I’m not a specialist in any of them, but I will share my own experience and how you might fold them into your own practice.

After the bend (later)

Only on the other side do we ask whether something shifted. Not “How much did I create?” but “Did something true emerge?” Your own questions already name it:

Do I feel more inspired?
Do I feel more aligned with what matters now?
Am I clearer about the next small step?
Did anything change deep within in how I see, choose, or relate?
If the answer tilts yes, that’s progress, post or no post.

Letting Old Selves die - completed Oracle Card. Original creation Ana Bugalete

Personally, from this stillness and practice, a clear thread emerged: I’m a brand strategist, yes, but first I’m an intuitive thinker. From this insight, I can expand into work that’s aligned and entirely mine. I’ll reveal more when it’s ready, but the seeds are contained in this post.

…and let the river carry me.

I didn’t plan the pause, but I allowed it. I didn’t force or set a target. I let it be long enough for the next step to show itself, both new and strangely inevitable.

I’m learning to count what shifted, not just what surfaced. What’s ahead feels charged and clear: a vocation that grows at its own pace, work that’s aligned and fully mine.

So if you find yourself “blocked,” you may be mid-cycle. The work is happening underground, much of it below the threshold of awareness. Let the drift do its work. Pay gentle attention and meet yourself on the far shore.

When the work goes underwater