Author: Ryan Klette

Holding Both: Receptivity and Action / Trust and Flow

“Not too tight, not too loose.” — Joseph Goldstein

“The Tao begot one, One begot two, Two begot three, And three begot the ten thousand things.” — Tao Te Ching, Ch. 42

“When we really allow Yin to be Yin and Yang to be Yang… we recognise that which is new – that which is being born.” — Ya’Acov & Susannah Darling Khan

🌗 The Theme

Joseph Goldstein often says in meditation: “Not too tight, not too loose.”
It’s a simple line, but it captures an entire way of living. Too tight, and we lose receptivity — we grip, control, and over-effort. Too loose, and we drift — disconnected, unanchored, and unsure.
The middle ground, the dynamic balance between the two, is where life becomes most alive.

This week we enter the Temple of Yun — the living dance between opposites.
Yun is not a balance point, but a relationship: the ongoing movement between Yin and Yang, between stillness and expression, trust and direction.

It’s the third force that’s born when we allow opposites to meet.
In Jung’s terms, it’s the transcendent function, holding tension long enough for something new to appear.
In Steven Kotler’s language, it’s the state of flow, the merging of focus and surrender, when doing becomes being.

🌬️ The Spirit of Neutrality

In different traditions, this creative middle space carries many names:

• In Taoism, it is called Yun — the meeting of Yin and Yang, the movement of creation itself.
• In the Andean tradition, Yanantin speaks of sacred duality, a space of neutrality that holds open the gate for what has not yet been dreamt.
• Among the Sapara of the Ecuadorian Amazon, Tsamaraw refers to the spirit of neutrality — alive, unpredictable, and full of eros.
• In Hebrew mysticism, this is echoed in Tiferet — beauty born of harmony, the heart that reconciles mercy and strength — and in Ruach, spirit, breath, wind, the movement that connects what is above and below.
• In Buddhism, it is the Middle Way — the path between effort and ease, indulgence and denial, where awakening ripens.
• In ancient Egyptian wisdom, Ma’at names the principle of balance between chaos and order, the rhythm that keeps the world aligned.

Neutrality here isn’t numbness or passivity. It’s the fertile space where Yin and Yang are both allowed to be fully themselves. When each pole is honoured, a third force arises — creative, erotic, emergent. That’s the song of Yun.

💫 Trusting Life

We don’t always act as if we believe that life is supporting us.
When we’re in survival states — anxious, guarded, self-protective — it can be hard to sense life’s underlying goodness.
But as Joseph Campbell reminded us, we can act as if a mythology were true.
Even when we doubt the story, we can step into it and try it on.

“The hero’s journey always begins with the call. One way or another, a guide must come to say, ‘Look, you’re in Sleepy Land. Wake. Come on a trip. There is a whole aspect of your consciousness, your being, that’s not been touched. So you’re at home here? Well, there’s not enough of you there.’ And so it starts.”

— Joseph Campbell

So, what are the thresholds you’re being asked to cross?
Where do you feel the quiet call — and where do you resist it?

What if life is supporting you?
What if the small impulses, to rest, to reach out, to begin again are life itself calling you forward?

Many traditions speak of an unbroken self within, an inner current that knows the way.
It rarely takes us on the easy path, but it’s the one that leads to deeper fulfilment.
To walk that road is to walk a sacred path.

We often get caught in the waiting game — waiting for signs, clarity, permission — while life is already happening inside us.
Yun is the practice of noticing that movement and choosing to join it.

⚡ Flow Triggers

Modern research offers a practical lens for the same mystery.
According to Steven Kotler, flow is a state of full engagement, when our attention, body, and purpose align completely. It’s the lived experience of Yun: presence that’s both focused and surrendered.

Below is a fuller map of flow triggers, conditions that make this state more accessible.
You don’t need all of them. Start by experimenting with a few that help you rebalance the active and receptive in your life.

Psychological Triggers

Intense concentration or deep focus.
Clear goals — knowing what you’re doing and why.
Immediate feedback — sensing results moment to moment.
Challenge–skills balance — the edge where ability meets difficulty.
A sense of control, held lightly.
Intrinsic motivation — doing it for the joy of doing it.

Environmental Triggers

A rich, novel environment that sparks curiosity.
Deep embodiment — engaging the body and senses.
Meaningful risk — enough stakes to demand presence.
Clear boundaries — ritual, time, or structure that holds attention.
A safe but stimulating space that invites growth.

Social Triggers

Mutual focus and deep listening.
Shared goals and transparent communication.
Equal participation and psychological safety.
Trust and familiarity.
Moments when ego softens and we move as one.

Creative / Neurobiological Triggers

Novelty and unpredictability.
Pattern recognition and insight moments.
Movement and breath practices that regulate energy.
Cycles of deep effort and real recovery.
Meditation and mindfulness.
Social belonging and empathy — co-regulation and shared resonance.

Kotler reminds us that flow follows focus. It’s not about intensity but presence, the willingness to give ourselves fully to what’s happening now.
You might experiment with a few of these triggers this week. Deepen focus, add novelty, take a small risk, or allow full rest.
Notice how life meets you when you do.

🌿 Movement Practice

1. Begin in Yin — stillness, breath, listening.
2. Awaken Yang — expression, rhythm, direction.
3. Allow Yun to find you — the spiral between opposites, the moment when movement begins to move you.
4. Notice: where is that curving line today? Where do stillness and expression meet?

This is not about getting it right; it’s about letting life move through you in real time.

💬 Reflection Prompts

• Where are you holding tension between trust and control?
• What would it mean to act as if life were supporting you?
• When do you feel most in flow — not pushing, not waiting, just moving with life?
• What threshold are you standing at right now?

🎨 Artist Date

Inspired by Julia Cameron, take yourself on an Artist Date this week.
Go alone, without a plan. Visit a garden, market, forest, gallery — anywhere that invites curiosity. Do your favourite thing just for you.
Leave your phone behind. Move slowly.
Let life show you something — colour, rhythm, texture, sound.

🌱 Integration

“Not too tight, not too loose.”
Yun is the middle ground between effort and trust.
Flow is its felt sense — the moment we stop forcing and start participating.
This week, act as if life is on your side.
Follow the small movements.
Let your next step arise from the conversation between you and life.

“To walk this road is to walk a sacred path.”

*Artwork taken from School of Movement Medicine (Ya’Acov & Susannah Darling Khan)

Finding rest inside action

The easiest way to check your state is to notice your breathing.

This week we’re exploring doing energy that’s in balance — not pushing, forcing, or over-exerting. Of course we’ll find ourselves in and out of balance all through the day. There’s no nervous system that’s perfectly steady, and that’s okay.

One of the biggest obstacles to balanced doing in this modern world is distraction. There’s so much tugging at our attention that we often end up frazzled, scattered, unsure what to do next — or trying to do it all at once. The big delusion of our time is that we get more done through frantic, chaotic energy. But nothing could be further from the truth.

Cal Newport writes about this in Slow Productivity, where he makes a clear case for doing more with less. If you think about how much more meaningful work you’d do if you were distracted less — that’s not pushing harder; that’s simply removing what pulls you away from what matters.

It’s all related. I often find myself doing a lot, but with more stress in the doing than is really needed. One story I carry is feeling behind. I’ve spent much of my life feeling like I have to catch up, and that belief colours my actions. Whatever I’m doing, it can feel like it’s never enough — as if I’m working through a backlog that will never end. The task becomes less about its own value and more about clearing the list.

There are many stories that attach themselves to doing. Another common one is I won’t get it right or it won’t be good enough. Just notice what comes up for you around action, doing, or performing. It’s all good material for your pages.

There’s nothing wrong with the satisfaction of crossing things off, but what counts more is how I bring myself to those tasks. More often than not, slower is faster. This racing around can feel productive, but when you look closely, much of it is wasted energy disguised as busyness.

When we strip away distractions and focus on what’s in front of us, we not only get more done but do it in a smoother, more integrated way. In that open, balanced mode, our creative and higher faculties come online. Life starts to feel less like a series of problems to fix and more like a field of movement and response.

The Stoics had this insight — that obstacles aren’t just part of the path; they are the path. The obstacle is the way. Even small glimpses of this in your day count as progress.

And how often do we look around for something that was in front of us all along?

When we move through life in a more balanced way, we tend to find those things sooner — not because they suddenly appear, but because we’re less sympathetically charged. The push itself can become counterproductive. When the body is calm, the field of awareness expands. We’re no longer seeing through the narrow lens of the sympathetic nervous system. It makes all the difference to carry a little of that openness and expansiveness with us as we move through the day.

So this week, keep writing. Keep noticing where your doing feels balanced — not holding back, not pushing forward. Notice when your writing slips into flow: what does it feel like in your body? How’s your breathing? What are the markers? How do you know when you’re more in that place?

Try the same outside of writing. Can you notice when your doing carries tension, anxiety, or worry? What story are you telling yourself then?

One common pattern is that when we hold back too much, it builds up pressure and catapults us into over-doing — that swing between inertia and overdrive. I know it well.

There’s a story about the boxer Floyd Patterson, who was known to nap in the dressing room right before title fights. Reporters would watch him sleep and later hear him talk about it — his dreams, his calm, his fear. It’s an extreme example, but it beautifully illustrates the point: how deep yin can support strong yang.

When Floyd stepped into the ring, his being came from deep rest. He could switch in a moment into full fight mode — but the difference was that he had preserved his energy. Nothing wasted in unnecessary tension. All his resources gathered, ready to give everything to the task at hand — to give his best fight.

This week, make some space to find that still point before action — to rest inside the doing. That’s the essence of balanced yang.

And maybe noticing, too, that sometimes what we’re afraid of isn’t failing, but actually arriving — finishing, succeeding, being seen.

This week, let this question from Gary Keller’s The One Thing be a kind of guiding light — a way of bringing yourself more fully to the task at hand.

“What’s the one thing I can do right now such that by doing it, everything else becomes easier or unnecessary?”

That question can become a kind of internal compass — a way of dropping out of scattered effort and into the one movement that really matters. It might lead you to the dishes, to a work task, or to the gym — nothing is too trivial. The point isn’t what you do, but whether it’s the right action for you in this moment.

And it’s an experiment — learn, adjust, and try again. Let it include a sense of playfulness. It doesn’t need to feel like the most serious thing in the world.

You might also try a simple breath practice to help regulate your doing energy —
inhaling through the nose for five seconds, exhaling through the nose for five seconds.
Do this a few times a day, even just for a few minutes. It’s a small reset that reminds the body how to return to balance.

I’ll end with one of my favourite ideas from Suleika Jaouad:

“Let your survival be a creative act.”

Society values the push — the doing, the achieving, the forward motion.
But this week, we’re turning our attention toward being.

Thresholds and the Parts That Resist

As we bring awareness to thresholds, it’s normal to feel some fear or anxiety.
Like Leeane shared about Monja — at the end of the sweat lodge she said she could do more than she thought. She surprised herself: “Look at that — I got through.”
It leaves you with that quiet sense of wonder: I wonder what else I can do?

If you think back to the thresholds you’ve already crossed, they often carry that same feeling of strength — each time something in us breaks open: an old idea, a fear, a long-held family belief.

This week, notice your relationship to thresholds — the ones you’ve crossed and the ones still waiting.
They show up in our everyday lives as much as in the big cycles.

As we move through these inevitable challenges, we also meet the parts of us that say, “Hell no, I don’t want to go.”
Get curious about the small (and maybe big) things you hold back from.

A small example: I know I need to get myself exercising, but something in me doesn’t want to.
If you gave that voice space, what would it say?

Maybe: “Rest is important right now.”
That might be valid.
Or maybe: “I can’t let myself be seen like this — unfit, not worthy.”

We can listen with curiosity to these stories. They often lead back to earlier experiences when not going felt like the only way to stay safe.

A Story from My Own Pages

I remember one of my earliest experiences of not going was to karate camp.
I was seven, and there was an older kid who bullied me. I went, but I bunked most of the weekend, and shortly after, I quit karate altogether.

It became a threshold I didn’t cross again — the one that taught me to avoid physical difficulty.
Over the years, I’ve learned to help that young part of me — to put down the burden of feeling like it was his fault for not getting through.
He really did the best he could with what he had.

And I helped him find new thresholds to cross — but this time, we looked for mentors, people who had gone before and could show us how.
What a difference that made to a boy who had few men taking an interest in him.
He loved that idea. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t do it alone.

This Week’s Invitation

As we explore thresholds, check in with your parts:
What do they need to cross?
What gives them strength?
What will help them?

These are very different questions from what society teaches: Push harder. Be stronger.

This week we’re inviting more being — the yin quality.
Slowing down, even for a few minutes, and listening.

It may look like:

• Reaching for your phone less
• Giving yourself a few moments each day that are non-directional
• Letting yourself walk with less of a need to get somewhere
• Letting play arise — not to get anywhere, just to be.

If you find this hard, no problem.
Just notice it — and put it in your pages.