Why I’m Going on a Self-Help Fast

At the end of May, I decided to cut sugar.

Two weeks later at a dinner party, my favourite cheesecake magically appeared on the table. I looked at it, quickly turned away, but couldn’t ignore the sweet scent wafting toward my nostrils.

My stomach rumbled as I imagined the strawberry cheesecake jumping off of the table and into my mouth. However, I held firm and instead had a small bowl of berries.

Today, I’ve decided to (temporarily) stop reading, listening or taking in any information about self-help and spirituality. I’m also determined not to write about these genres, because for me writing and reading are different sides of the same coin.

I need a complete break. I need to control what comes in and what goes out.

This has nothing to do with the potency of self-help and the important role it has played in my life. On the contrary, without all the reading and learning I’ve done in this genre, I wouldn’t be half the man I am today.

I’m taking this sabbatical—it could be a few months or even six—because of Rumi. It’s always him.

Late one night a few weeks ago, he whispered to me:

“I have been a seeker, and I still am, but I stopped asking the books and the stars. I started listening to the teaching of my Soul.”

Seven years into my self-discovery journey, I’ve read hundreds of books and thousands of articles. I’ve listened to many, many podcasts. I’ve also expressed my learnings in speech and prose, and have written religiously for almost three years now.

With over 150 articles on my blog, I feel like I know it all.

However, the truth is that I only know what I know intellectually. I haven’t been able to internalise all my lessons; they are not yet part of my being.

True, I’ve changed a lot over the course of the past seven years. Yet, much information is still stuck inside my conscious mind. Only some of the learnings have trickled down into my subconscious, where true learning is incorporated and becomes new, ingrained behaviour.

Nevertheless, to allow the subconscious and the conscious to associate more freely means to open the heart—where the soul resides. To truly hear our inner voice, we must shut out noise from the outside.

This means subtracting rather than adding stuff. It means undoing rather than doing. It means being rather than executing.

I’m soon approaching my 50th birthday. If I know “everything” about any lesson, it’s this: in this life, we need to allow our souls to lead our minds and bodies—not the other way around.

“Start listening to the teaching of my soul,” Rumi says.

Rumi’s words came at a time when I was no longer enjoying my writing about self-help and spirituality. I felt that the oversaturation of blogs, books and podcasts in that genre was beginning to have the opposite effect on many readers (like me) who felt fed up with the repetition of specific messages in the form of “do this” and “do that.”

For the past few months, I’ve felt that my writing has plateaued. A few weeks ago, I found myself writing a new article on my morning routines—something I’d written about only six months prior—and I knew that I’d lost my exuberance for writing. I needed to re-access my “Shoshin” mind to come up with new ideas.

I was no longer moving forward, but rather sideways. I’d become stagnant and didn’t feel like I was growing anymore.

Most successful people know when to pivot and reinvent themselves. The trick is to leave the party as soon as you feel the vibes dropping… or you’ll go down with the rest.

Of course, this isn’t easy. Just look at history. From the decline of the Roman Empire, Tiger Woods’ fall from grace, and the disappearance of Kodak, we learn that the biggest risers can fall quickly, never to recover.

I know writing is in my blood. I will never stop doing it. But I’ve decided that it’s time to stop writing on everything self-help and spirituality. At least for the next three to six months.

What better than a self-help fast to help me deepen my voice, find different interests, and serve my readers more?

In closing some doors, we allow room for other doors to open. In cutting sugar and ignoring the cheesecake, I allowed my taste buds to appreciate the true, sweet flavour of the much healthier berries.

In de-cluttering my mind, clearing out the same recycled messages peddled by self-help articles and books, I’m opening space for new ways of reaching my soul and expressing it in different forms of writing.

I don’t know what awaits me in the next six months. I could come back and write fiction, long-form essays, or memoir. I could also find a better and more enjoyable way (for me and readers alike) of writing self-help.

But what I do know now is that I’ve got to listen to the murmurs of my soul.