I had a phone call yesterday with a really great person called Mel. Mel built my website. She lives in South Australia and she is, quite reliably, a complete firecracker.
She rang me up. "Hey Hills!" Energy off the charts. She'd just got my book in the mail and she was buzzing.
And I felt myself wanting to get off the phone.
Not because of Mel. Because of me. I wasn't meeting her at her level, and I usually do. I usually match her energy without thinking about it. But that day, I didn't have it. I just sat there, low and flat, listening to her bounce around the conversation while I tried to find the version of me she was used to.
It was like I'd left home with a handbag and forgotten to pack my mojo.
What even is mojo?
Mojo is the confidence, the energy, the charisma. It's our spark. The thing that makes us authentically us. Not Pollyanna, not performing, not trying. Just the essence of how we naturally show up in the world.
And when it's gone, you feel it. Usually before you can name it. You feel disconnected, dimmed down, going through the motions. Bob and I were lying in bed the next morning and I told him I felt like I'd been walking around without my mojo. Like I'd packed everything else in my handbag and forgotten the one thing that matters. Just saying it out loud made me feel lighter.
So that's where I'm going to start: with the idea that you have to notice you've lost it before you can get it back.
Why your mojo wanders off
From what I've seen in my own life and other people's, mojo doesn't usually disappear because something is "wrong." It quietly walks out the door because of one of these:
Tiredness or burnout. The biggest one. Mine, this time. We'd just done a big weekend away, I have a 3-day workshop coming up, the book launch, the podcast, two businesses. The candle burns at both ends and the flame in the middle gets quieter.
Big positive changes. A new baby. A new house. A new business. A move. Even when the change is wonderful, the system has to rebuild around it, and your mojo can get lost in the rebuild.
Routine. Doing the same things in the same order on the same days. Eventually your creativity goes flat and you start ho-humming through life.
Failure. Years ago I co-founded a business with a friend right as the GFC hit. We did the wrong things at the wrong time and the wheels came off. That dented my mojo for a long time. And my pocket.
No clarity, no direction. When you don't know what you actually want, you feel like you're playing blind man's bluff. You reach toward voices calling your name, but they move, and you're left grasping at air.
You don't lose your mojo because you're broken. You lose it because you're tired, you're in transition, or you've stopped asking yourself what you actually want.
The little switches of light
Here's what I've learned about getting mojo back. You don't need a transformation. You need switches of light along the path.
Mine is the swimming pool. Sitting beside it for half an hour. Or playing golf. Or writing in my journal (I have about 20 of them in a pile, I love a notebook). Bob and I are heading to a trivia night tonight, which is more his thing than mine, but I'll go because the change of scene flips a switch.
For you, it might be a bath with candles. It might be a walk. It might be a phone call to the friend who reminds you you're a firecracker.
Ask yourself this: what's one thing I could do today, action-wise, that would make a real difference and make me feel good? Promise yourself you'll do it. If it's big, just commit to a small part of it. If it's the bath with candles and you don't even have candles, the action is "buy the candles." Get yourself on track.
The frame I keep coming back to: CBA
Clarity. Belief. Action.
Clarity on what you actually want. Not what you think you should want, not what someone else wants for you. Yours.
Belief that you can have it.
Action toward it, even if it's the smallest version of action you can take today.
When your mojo is missing, it usually means one of those three is off. You've lost clarity on what you want, or you've stopped believing it's possible, or you've stopped moving toward it. Find the missing one. Address that one.
The permission you keep forgetting to give yourself
One last thing. The permission you've been waiting for - the one to take the break, to end the thing, to start the thing, to rest, to change direction - that permission has been yours to give the whole time.
You don't need mine. You don't need anyone else's. You need yours.
So this is your nudge. Are you feeling flat? Are you going through the motions? Has your mojo been quietly missing for longer than you'd like to admit? If yes, then this is your chance to notice it, name it, and give yourself the permission you've been waiting for.
Go and switch one light on today. Tomorrow, switch another. By the end of the week, you'll be back to firecracker. Just like Mel.
