What I Learned When I Stopped Doing
The many lessons of my prolonged water fast
After hearing the words “It is cancer,” I took the seemingly radical approach of pausing my life. I stopped working. I started a prolonged water fast. I stepped off the conveyor belt before embarking on the conventional route laid out by my doctors—that part’s coming in July.
My work is about personal development, creativity, and the intersections between them. And yet, you’re probably going to hear a lot about cancer from me in the coming months—because it’s my reality. And because, it’s been fertile ground for both my personal growth and creative evolution.
I’m even toying with the idea of starting my podcast back up under a new name and theme. You’ll have to let me know—would you want to listen?
The goal of my fast was 30 days for autophagy. But 17 days in, something shifted. My intuition said, this is enough. And in a new effort to be radically honest with my inner knowing, I listened. I stopped. I began refeeding.
Yesterday I heard a podcast guest say that when most people get sick, they immediately ask: What can I do? It becomes about adding: more books, more podcasts, more supplements, more protocols. Rarely do we ask: What needs to be taken away?
What’s often needed most is the elimination of the noise.
The permission to pause.
To sit.
To be a human being, not a human doing.
That truth hit me deep—especially after a month of not doing much at all.
But I did do a few things.
I planted a garden. It helped me connect to myself, to my ancestors. It became a kind of moving meditation, a way to be with what I was feeling—not to fix it, just to hold it.
While I worked in the garden, meditated, and journaled during this quiet month, a lot surfaced.
One day, after planting all afternoon, covered in mosquito bites and peeling off my sweaty layers, this thought arrived like a lightning bolt:
“The only one who needs to validate your worth is you.”
I grabbed my journal, wrote it down, and asked:
How does someone who already knows they are worthy show up in the world?
How does a woman who knows her worth move through her day?
How do I want to show up in the world as that woman?
With dirt still under my fingernails, I wrote:
A Woman Who Honors Her Worth…
Makes choices that align with her intuition and core values—even (and especially) when they seem wild to others, and sometimes even herself. If it’s grounded in knowing, it’s the right choice.
Prioritizes practices that strengthen her intuition: journaling, meditation, gardening, baking, making art.
Approaches her work with joy and mindfulness. She eliminates the noise that causes long-term stress or spiritual damage.
Creates offerings she loves delivering—programs that serve her clients and light her up.
Sets prices from abundance and fairness, not fear or lack. She builds a business that supports her sustainably.
She cultivates a profound trusts that everything is unfolding as it should. She doesn’t spin in fear or worry.
Sees the miracle in everything—and believes the universe is conspiring in her favor. Holding the mantra “Everything is happening for me”
Is kind. And because she’s kind, she holds strong boundaries.
That’s what came through. And it all started with quiet. With listening.
With journaling.
So if you’re wondering how this all ties back to creativity, to healing, to you—here it is:
Sometimes the most important work doesn’t look like work at all.
It looks like putting your hands in the soil.
It looks like writing down the truth that bubbles up from deep within.
It looks like choosing to listen, even when the world demands noise.
If reading this stirred something in you—if you're craving quiet, clarity, or just a little more connection with your own inner voice—then I’d love to invite you to join me for a free journaling workshop I'm hosting July 7th-11th. It’s not fancy or complicated. Just time set aside to breathe, reflect, and write together.
We'll gather in a small circle online, I’ll send a daily email with a video containing a few prompts, and we’ll make space for whatever is ready to emerge—no pressure, no perfection, just presence.
If that sounds like something you need, you can sign up here.
Together We Float,
-Alisha