Man, I gotta be straight with you, before this whole Pisces cycle kicked in, I was running on fumes. I’d been staring at my project file for maybe eight months, maybe more, and I had absolutely zero to show for it. I was trying to manufacture creativity, you know? I was forcing the morning routine, I was downing four coffees before noon, I was pounding the pavement for those “inspirational walks.” I felt like a machine that was just grinding rusty gears. Absolutely nothing good was coming out. I’d scrapped three separate drafts. I was just stuck.
I usually avoid all the esoteric talk. I really do. But desperation makes you do stupid things. I was late one Tuesday night, scrolling through some random site—don’t even remember which one—and I caught a line about Pisces being the month where you have to deal with your inner closet. Not the physical closet, but the mental one. The junk you’ve been sweeping under the rug for the whole year. I scoffed at it, honestly. But then I looked at my desk. It was buried under cables, half-eaten snacks, and papers I hadn’t touched since last spring. And I realized, yeah, maybe my inner closet was just as bad.
I Decided to Stop Forcing and Start Clearing
My first practical step wasn’t some grand meditation or a chanting session. It was totally embarrassing. I hauled myself up and started attacking my garage. I literally wrestled with old paint cans and a busted lawnmower for three straight hours. My hands were black with grime. I tossed maybe 400 pounds of actual garbage. I was utterly drained by the end of it, but when I looked at that empty space, something clicked in my head. I recognized that the block I had wasn’t about a lack of ideas; it was about the sheer volume of old, dead stuff I was still carrying around.
After that, I knew I had to transfer that physical action to the spiritual stuff. I made a list of things I was putting off:
- I had three old freelance invoices I hadn’t sent. I sent them.
- I had one friendship that had been dead for six months but I was still replying to the occasional text. I stopped replying. I just let it go.
- I had a pile of notebooks filled with half-baked ideas from 2022. I took them, ripped out the pages I might actually use, and shredded the rest.
I was really leaning into that ‘ending things’ Pisces energy. It felt brutal, like cutting off a limb that had been asleep and useless for too long. I wasn’t creating anything new; I was just demolishing the old foundations that were stopping me from moving forward.
The Deep Messy Dive into Dreamland
Then came the channeling part. I tried to do it the easy way, the way you see in those clean, bright videos. It didn’t work. My brain was too loud. So I changed my approach. Pisces is water and dreams, right? So I grabbed a specific, small notepad—a blue one I never used—and put it right next to my bed. I set a stupidly early alarm, 15 minutes before I actually needed to get up.
The rule was simple: before I even opened my eyes, before I even thought about the coffee maker, I had to reach out and write down the feeling of the dream I just had. Not the plot. Just the gut feeling. Was it dread? Was it floating? Was it that specific feeling of being lost in a crowd?
I did this every single morning for the whole month. The entries were a mess—half-sentences, scribbled adjectives, total nonsense. I didn’t re-read them. I just wrote it down and got on with my day. I was literally collecting the weird, messy runoff from my subconscious.
Then, in the evenings, when I should have been working on the Big Project, I wasn’t. I sat there and listened to really sad, melancholy music—the kind that makes you want to stare out a window at the rain. I just let the feelings of the morning writing wash over me. I wasn’t fighting the sadness or the anxiety; I was embracing it as part of the process. I allowed myself to feel that ugly, drifting feeling for a solid hour every night.
The Unlocking and the Realization
The breakthrough wasn’t a sudden ‘Aha!’ moment where the Muses descended. It was way more practical and way more boring. I was sitting there one afternoon, not writing, just staring at the wall, feeling totally overwhelmed by the weirdness I had been processing—all the shredded papers, the dream scribbles, the sad music. My head was buzzing with emotion.
And then a single sentence popped into my head. It wasn’t related to the Big Project at all. It was just a sentence that summed up that feeling of being totally lost but also finally letting go. I immediately typed it out. And then another sentence followed it. And another. I wasn’t thinking about structure or audience or SEO. I was just channeling the raw, messy voice that came from clearing out the garage and paying attention to my ridiculous dreams.
That accidental paragraph wasn’t the main project, but it became the whole key to the main project. I realized that the creative block was never about having nothing to say; it was about trying to say it too cleanly. The inner creativity I was trying to unlock wasn’t a shining diamond; it was a rough, weird stone covered in mud, and I had to dig through the mess to find it. I rewrote the entire opening of my book proposal using that messy, honest voice. I finished the first proper chapter in a week. It felt honest. It wasn’t perfect, but it finally worked. Trust me, ditch the complicated rituals and just deal with your junk. That’s what the Pisces month is actually for.
