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Posts tagged ‘presence’

Aug 8

9 Comments

The Importance of Making Space

During August, I’ll be sharing a few choice tidbits from the archives. Enjoy!

Making space for your creative work is almost as important as making time for your creative work. When you have a work space that feels inviting and inspiring — even if it’s just the corner of a room — turning to your creative work feels like a delightful retreat, rather than just another item on your endless “to-do” list. We also know that one way to dispel resistance is to shape your environment to support your goals. The easier it is to get at your work and get down to business, the more likely you’ll be to actually follow through.

In her fabulous book The Creative Habit, Twyla Tharp notes: “To get the creative habit, you need a working environment that’s habit-forming.” When you have a space that calls to you, it’s easier to go there regularly. Regularity, as Tharp points out throughout her book (as the title would suggest), is the heart of creative output.

We all know Virginia Woolf’s famous dictum that “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” Woolf was speaking about the feminist need for independence in order to create. Most of us probably feel comparatively liberated, despite the fact that we have children and Woolf did not — but her point is well taken.

How can you change your space in order to better support your creative work? Many of us don’t have the luxury of our own room or even the corner of a room to call our own. We take over the dining table when the muse strikes and then have to dismantle the work area when it’s time to eat. If this is the case for you, brainstorm ways to make this process as user-friendly as possible.

It’s also possible that there IS a nook or cranny lurking in your home that you could claim for yourself with a bit of re-thinking. Bring your creative skills to finding a space in your home that helps you return to your creative, authentic self as seamlessly as possible. And if you’re fortunate enough to have your own space, you might spend a bit of time this month editing out anything in this space that doesn’t work for you anymore. Clean it up, organize, bring in a few fresh visuals that speak to you. Make it yours. Then, dig in.

“Without the studio, however humble,
the room where the imagination can enter cannot exist.”
~Anna Hansen

What works for you?

May 11

18 Comments

Everything and Nothing: A Day in the Life

Yesterday was one of those days filled with everything and nothing. I bet you can relate. It started in the wee hours:

12:30 am My three oldest (Russell, Matthew, and Emma) return home from a Dear Hunter concert; I am only vaguely aware of noises downstairs in the kitchen as someone prepares a midnight snack.

4:00 am Matthew, a high-school senior, is picked up by his girlfriend and her dad. They head to school for the band and chorus road trip to Cleveland. I have left a good-bye note for Matthew; I stay in bed.

6:00 am Up for the day — late. Abbreviated morning practice. Make tea. Husband departs.

6:20 am I plan the day and drink my tea. The three cats are acting somewhat frantic. One of them, Finn, is scheduled for surgery today so no one has had access to food or water since last night. Sasha tries to eat a houseplant.

6:35 am I carefully read through the thick recital packet from Emma’s dance school, decide that I’m not going to volunteer as a chaperone, and calculate our ticket purchase. Emma is still in bed; I go upstairs to confirm that she wants to stay home today on account of last night’s late concert. She does. So I don’t need to make her breakfast or lunch. Bonus!

6:50 am Liam, who just turned four years old this week, gets up (unusually late). We snuggle and eat breakfast.

7:20 am After settling Liam on the couch watching Tom & Jerry, I go upstairs to shower and dress.

7:40 am Seven-year-old Aidan is still asleep. I wake him up, hurriedly get him some cereal, make lunches for both boys, and dress Liam. I put Finn in the kitty carry bag and make it out to the garage.

8:10 am We drive down the hill. The school bus rolls up and Aidan departs. Liam, Finn, and I set off for the vet’s office. Finn howls all the while, trying to claw his way out of the carry bag. Perhaps he knows that he’ll be leaving the vet’s office with a little less than he’s bringing in. Each time Finn howls, Liam screeches in delight.

8:30 am At the vet’s office. I fill out Finn’s paperwork and Liam kisses Finn goodbye through the carry-bag’s mesh.

9:00 am We arrive at Liam’s school. Liam hates his school, and informs me of this repeatedly, as he always does, clinging to my leg as I try to leave. I extract myself remorsefully, telling myself that Liam’s acceptance letter to his new Montessori school is surely imminent.

9:25 am Back in the car, I listen to an installment of The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton, which is lovely. En route to the studio, I pick up a cappuccino at my favorite local café.

10:00 am At Open Studio for the monthly meeting of my nonfiction writers’ group. (I am a member of this group, rather than the facilitator.) I love these women. Great feedback and encouragement on my e-book project, which is nearly finished.

12:20 pm Check e-mail from the studio, respond to a few client messages, take my turns at Words With Friends via iPhone, and plan the rest of the day before heading out. The vet calls to say that Finn did great; he’s still seeing double but I can pick him up anytime after 2:00.

12:40 pm Heading for home. On the way, I drop off two bags of shirts at the dry cleaner’s and stop at the pharmacy to pick up an rx.

1:15 pm At home. Eat lunch. Check in with daughter, who is enjoying her day off. More e-mail triage. Let dog out. Register Emma up for a creative fashion camp.

1:45 pm 30-minute phone call with student from my Wednesday writers’ workshop who missed class yesterday due to illness.

2:15 pm Brief chat with my oldest, Russell, about last night’s concert. Russ just returned home from college yesterday and I haven’t had much chance to see him yet. I also spend some time mapping out the choreography for the afternoon, as Matthew, who normally drives Emma to her voice and dance lessons, is en route to Cleveland and there is a lot to juggle being down my Thursday afternoon chauffeur. Russell is on deadline with five papers that are due tomorrow so I can’t assign him any driving.

2:55 pm Depart for Emma’s voice lesson. Emma, who has her learner’s permit, does the driving. I practice my deep breathing as Emma hesitates in the middle of an intersection, nearly causing a five-car pileup. But she’s doing great.

3:20 pm Arrive music school, late. Emma goes in for her lesson. I get into the driver’s seat and head to Liam’s school. More of The Forgotten Garden.

3:30 pm I retrieve Liam, who is always deliriously happy to see me. I have brought him some leftover candy from his birthday piñata, which he munches intently as we drive back to the music school to get Emma.

3:45 pm Depart music school with Emma and Liam. Emma is driving again. Getting to the dance school two towns over requires several highway stints. More deep breathing. Meanwhile, Russell, who is at home working on his papers, will meet Aidan when he gets off the bus.

4:10 pm Park outside the dance school. Emma goes inside for class. I check in with husband via text to be sure that he’ll be home by 6:00 in order to take Aidan to soccer practice. Everything seems to be on target. I have promised Liam a treat at the bakery next door (the piñata candy hasn’t made a dent in this child’s appetite for sugar and even though I try not to eat the stuff myself, apparently I have no problem feeding it to my children); we attempt to enter the bakery but they’re closed. Liam bursts into tears. I assure him that there’s another option a short walk away. He cheers immediately and we have a nice walk in the sun. He ends up with a brownie and apple juice. Happy.

4:40 pm Back in the car, we still have over an hour left to wait out Emma’s 90-minute class. I allow Liam the rare delight of watching a DVD in the car. I queue up Monsters Inc. With Liam plugged into the electronic babysitter as he happily strews brownie crumbs all over the car, I sit in the passenger seat and prepare to do some work on my laptop. I realize that a studio document I need is only available online, and I have no wifi access here. Instead of doing client work, I opt to make edits to my e-book based on feedback from the morning’s writers’ group. Nothing like creating in the middle of things. I make excellent progress punctuated by intermittent conversation with Liam.

5:40 pm I hear an unfamiliar beeping noise and suddenly realize what I’ve done. In my frantic attempt to jump out of the car and run around to the driver’s side, I get caught in the strap of my messenger bag and nearly wipe out in the parking lot. By the time I make it to the driver’s seat, it’s too late. The car battery is dead. I’ve been playing a DVD for nearly an hour without running the engine.

5:45 pm Call husband, who is nearly home. We decide that I’ll use the roadside service deal that comes with our car lease. I call and make arrangements for a jump. They tell me it will be about an hour. This is going to be a very long hour. Emma asks me if the battery will recharge itself just by sitting there. No, I tell her. That’s not how it works.

6:00 pm Liam is hot, as he’s sitting in the sun, and Emma is cold, as the windows are open and she’s sitting in the shade. I’m on Liam’s sunny side, and I’m pretty sure my left ear is getting burned off in the late afternoon soon. I’m unable to address any of these climate control issues, seeing as the car is dead. I tell Liam to climb into the shady side of the car. I check in with my husband, who has arrived home to take Aidan to soccer, but Aidan isn’t ready. (I neglected to ask Russell to tell Aidan to get his soccer kit on.) Aidan will be late for practice. I inform my husband, in case it isn’t readily apparent, that I will not be making dinner.

6:30 pm We’re getting hungry, and I really have to pee. Meanwhile, the vet closes at 8:00, and someone needs to get there in time to fetch Finn. The tow guy calls to tell me he’s on his way. He’s leaving from Newton, which is at least 45 minutes away. Seriously? Time for action. I decide that Liam and I will walk over to the pizza place around the corner while Emma stays with the car. As Liam opens his door, the interior light flicks on. How can the light go on if the battery is totally dead? I turn the key in the ignition. The car roars to life. Apparently that is how it works, I note for Emma’s benefit. It’s been a while since I experienced this level of gratitude for the combustion engine. We set off for the vet’s as I call to cancel the jump.

7:05 pm We make it to the vet. Liam, ever curious, comes in with me. $210 later, we come out to the car with Finn in his carry bag, which I hand to Emma. At which point we discover that it’s soaking wet. Apparently Finn, in his post-surgical state, relieved himself upon being installed in his bag. (At this point I can relate to his sense of urgency.) Given that Emma doesn’t want to hold the wet bag on her lap and Finn is meowing his head off, it’s an interesting drive home.

7:20 pm We’re home and I make a run for the bathroom. Emma takes Finn upstairs in the pee-bag and the boys sit down to eat the veggie corn dogs that my husband has set out for them. I scrounge up some dinner for myself. Aidan, recounting the day’s events at school, bursts into explaining that when he was out at recess, a second-grader named Tommy gleefully pulled a worm in half, brushing aside Aidan’s protests. Aidan, haunted by the image, is devastated, sobbing uncontrollably. I stifle the urge to do to Tommy what Tommy did to the worm.

7:40 pm My husband takes Liam upstairs for a bath. Aidan is still too emotional for bathing. We talk.

7:50 pm Partially recovered, Aidan heads upstairs to brush his teeth. I clean the kitchen.

8:30 pm It’s way past bedtime for the boys. I go upstairs to tuck Liam in and read to Aidan. We’re in the middle of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Aidan and I very much look forward to our nightly reading ritual.

8:50 pm I tuck Aidan in and go downstairs to start a load of laundry.

9:00 pm At my desk. As he has requested, I edit two of Russell’s final papers.

10:00 pm More e-mail triage. I set up a water delivery for the studio. I design a flier for an upcoming author event and post it to our facebook page.

10:45 pm Russell brings his laptop into my office and shares a few funnies from the interwebs. Emma makes an appearance and laughs with us. I advance the laundry.

11:05 pm Upstairs, I say goodnight to Emma and get ready for bed. I check my pedometer and see that I’m 100 steps short of my 5,000-step daily minimum. So I run downstairs to grab my prescription. By the time I get back, I’ve hit my quota. My husband has long since turned out the lights. I’m too tired to read my book, even though book group is on Saturday night and I’m only halfway through. Sleep awaits.

If you’re reading this line, you are the only person in the world to get this far, and I hug you for keeping me company all the way to the end.

Despite the day’s adventures, I’m pleased that I managed to create in the middle of things, and that I kept my cool rather than succumbing to stress. I know that by this time next year — heck, this time next month — I won’t remember this day at all. And yes, tomorrow is another day.

Apr 27

4 Comments

Tele-Call: Living in the Moment while Working Toward the Future

I’d love for you to join me for Transformational Tuesday, a free tele-call hosted by the Creativity Coaching Association on Tuesday, May 8 at 11:00 am eastern.

This live call is a conversation between Bev Down, CEO of the Creativity Coaching Association, and me, with Q&A from the audience (you, I hope!) on a topic I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: Living in the moment while working toward the future. Here’s the gist:

Goals are an essential part of turning dreams into reality. In order to avoid the pitfall of “Aim at nothing, and you’ll hit it every time,” we’re advised to get clear on what we want and visualize the ideal outcome. SMART goals (Specific, Measureable, Attainable, Relevant, and Time-Based) help us develop our passions and accomplish what feels important. But we also know that living in the moment — being present and surrendering to right now — is key to reducing stress and finding peace. Sometimes our plans for reaching our goals seem incompatible with what shows up in the present. How do we navigate this apparent conflict?

While I’m preparing my thoughts for this tele-call, I’d love to hear about your experience navigating this issue. Do you feel caught between wanting to be where you are — and wanting to arrive at a future point? As a creative mother, you’re continually faced with putting your own goals on hold in the name of taking care of someone else. Are you able to stay in the moment and go with the flow even when obstacles seem to pile up, and the distance between you and your goal seems to widen? Whether this is something you grapple with or something you don’t, I’d love to work your experience into my program. Please comment on this blog post to share your perspective in advance.

May 8, 2012 @ 11:00 AM, Eastern Time
Dial-in Number: 1-218-936-4141
Participant Access Code: 8673879#

I hope to “see” you there!

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Dec 7

Wondering Wednesday

Nov 3

7 Comments

To Balance or Not to Balance

The following piece is reprinted from the most recent issue of the Creative Times. If you’ve already read this piece, skip to the end for a terrific follow-on post sent in by a reader. Enjoy!

For years, we’ve been hearing about this thing called “balance” and how we need to find it. The entire Western world seems to be in constant pursuit of this mythical state of equilibrium. For a sense of how dominant this paradigm is, go to amazon.com and search on “balance” in just the self-help nonfiction category. Nearly 700 books come up.

I invite you to let go of any aspirations of balance. Unless you’re on a yoga mat in a challenging posture, balance isn’t actually relevant. In fact, one could argue that it’s beside the point — or perhaps even impossible. Everything in your life is in a constant state of change. Life is fluid, and balance is an illusion. Even if you’re able to devise the perfect, balanced schedule, two weeks later someone gets strep throat or school lets out for summer or you have another baby. Your spouse starts traveling extensively for business, or stops traveling extensively for business. You gain creative traction and find that you need to really apply yourself for a week in order to meet a deadline, to the exclusion of everything else. The only guarantee is that something is going to happen, and whatever balance you may have achieved is thrown out the window. And that’s OK. That’s just how it is.

Berit Strong is a classical guitarist who lives in Acton, Mass. I interviewed Berit several years ago while working on my nonfiction book. I love what she said about balance: “When people used to ask me how I balanced my life, I would say ‘You must be kidding!’ There is no such thing as balance. The ancient Chinese didn’t believe in balance; you have to be really intense about your life. When I was preparing for a major concerto performance, balance was a ridiculous concept. I didn’t see anybody, I didn’t socialize. I was getting ready for a concerto. I was happy to sacrifice anything else. No time for jogging, I didn’t promote my career, this was the chance of a lifetime. I once lived in Italy for two years. They think that Americans are laughable in the concept of balance. You can’t have both — it’s really hard to have everything the way you want it.”

So, instead of a desperate attempt to hit all of the cylinders all of the time, let’s reframe our ultimate goals as awareness, intention, and flow. We need to start with knowing what’s most important. From there, through awareness, we know what needs our attention most at any given time. This, rather than balance, is what leads us to presence and peace.

“Balance is overrated.”
~Thomas Leonard

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On Balance

By Emmanuelle Lambert, reposted from Plans On a Comet

When I take vrksasana (tree pose) on the right leg, I am strongly rooted and grounded, foundations are solid, and I can reach up and out. When I take vrksasana on the left leg, my tree is wobbly and I struggle not to grip the mat with my toes. “Balance on four corners of the foot” YEAH RIGHT WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

This week, our birthday hombre Adan wrote a great post about yoga and balance, which led me to ask in the comments “is there such a thing as balance?”

©Dominique Garnet (that's my mum you guys)

We are all on this quest for the ever-elusive and sacred balance. Well, after much consideration, here it goes: “life balance” looks like me in tree pose on the left leg.

You struggle, you thrive, you stop, you pause, you laugh, and then it starts all over again. Lather rinse repeat. There are only ebbs and flows, because that’s the way life is.

When we seek balance, we are only struggling to find something that is not attainable as is. We resist life. We fight, when the real mind soother is active letting go. Letting go of stuff that doesn’t serve.Taking care of ourselves in difficult times, and even not so difficult times. Learn to appreciate what is from a place of gratitude.

This morning, I was supposed to go to a yoga class with a new teacher in town. This morning I hit the snooze button and decided to stay in bed instead. My initial plan was to go to that place at least once a month, show up and make my face known because, who knows, one day they might call me to cover.

But there was a catch: in the situation I am in right now, Saturdays are my only rest days. The only day when I can have a lie in and do whatever I want to do. What if I got called to teach? I would have to say no, because I am by no means available, in body and spirit, on Saturday mornings.

So I didn’t go. Instead, I decided to let go of that big plan, because it’s not the right time.

Balance is difficult to achieve, unless you are willing to let go of the unbearable pressure you put on your shoulders. Balance doesn’t mean juggling a gazillion activities in a day. And remember: let go of what doesn’t serve you, that doesn’t make you less brilliant. You are enough :)

 

Oct 12

3 Comments

Child Time: Backward Follow-the-Leader

Here’s something fun to try the next time you’re hanging out with the kids, blissfully agenda-free. Rather than working on a particular piece with a specific outcome in mind, this is an exploration of creativity. See where it takes you. Adapted from The Mindful Child by Susan Kaiser Greenland.

Backward Follow-the-Leader:

In this version of the classic children’s game, the child participant doesn’t know that there’s a game going on. The primary “rule” of this game is that regardless of your child’s age, he or she is always the leader. The idea is that you, as Mom, simply follow along with whatever your child chooses to do, engaging in whatever conversation your child initiates, all at your child’s pace. Don’t tell your child that he or she is the leader; simply try to become totally tuned into your child’s rhythm, interests, and activities. If you have more than one child, take unspoken turns with each of your children. Try to avoid “redirecting” your child’s attention unless he or she is actually facing danger. Let go of the “shoulds” running through your head.

As mothers, our role is often that of corralling our children’s wandering minds and bodies and shepherding them through a maze of goal-directed activities dictated by schoolwork, family, and community obligations — and sticking to tight schedules. Letting go of this role, the one in which you are a cross between an army general and a personal valet, and assuming one in which your child is in control, can be difficult, exhausting, and boring. “Boring” is a word many of us feel guilty about using in connection with our kids, but to be honest, following your child’s lead can be very boring. Using tools of mindfulness, we can transform these occasionally frustrating and dull moments into an entirely different, even interesting, and extremely satisfying experience.

This piece was reprinted from the last issue of the Creative Times, our monthly newsletter.
Click here to subscribe!

Oct 5

7 Comments

Thinking, Feeling, and Creating

For most of us, it’s extremely difficult to separate our selves from our thoughts and our feelings. We are conditioned to believe that our thoughts and feelings are reality, and that when we don’t act on them, we are somehow being untrue to our “selves.”

But what we don’t realize is that it’s the mind’s job to churn out thought after thought — sometimes random, sometimes disturbing, sometimes completely nonconstructive. The best way to honor your self is to ask: “Is it true? Can I absolutely know that it is true?”

I’ve come to realize that all of my disturbing or upsetting thoughts fall into one of two categories: rehashing or rehearsing. It’s that simple. So when I find myself feeling anxious, stressed, or upset, I backtrack to identify the source of that unpleasant emotion. Then I can say, “Oh, there I am, rehashing what happened yesterday with my son,” or, “There I am, rehearsing what might go wrong at this week’s teleclass,” and let those thoughts go. They are just thoughts. The mind produces  thoughts, without invitation. That’s what it does.

By stepping away and inserting some space there, I am able to stay in touch with the fact that my thoughts are, as it turns out, just thoughts. They are not inherently the “truth.” It’s just my mind doing its thing, and there’s no mandate for me to participate by engaging in the next step: having unpleasant emotions. I can’t feel upset about something without first having an upsetting thought as a catalyst.

At the moment, on account of my daily meditation practice and doing “The Work” of Byron Katie (thanks to Ellen Olson-Brown and Pamela Jarboe), I am in a space where I am having a lot of fun allowing thoughts to rise and pass away.

The more I practice this, the easier it becomes, to the point that I can actually laugh at the absurdity of getting upset about someone jumping the queue at the post office or stewing over what so-and-so might or might not have meant by her ambiguous comment yesterday or what I’ll do if the conference table I ordered doesn’t arrive in time. What’s the worst that will happen? I’ll figure out a Plan B when I need to. How much of what I worry about is actually a matter of life and death? And even if it is, then what? It is what it is. I can only control myself, which starts by deciding not to be a reactive puppet to a mind that doesn’t necessarily serve my greater good — or anyone else’s.     

By choosing not to let my mind get into the driver’s seat, I’m better able to avoid driving against the traffic on a mental four-lane highway. I am able to save far more bandwidth for my family, my creative work and the other things that matter most deeply to me. Why fritter away my energies chasing imaginary wrongs and “problems”? There’s no point in messing up today by rehashing and rehearsing.

“Reality is always kinder than the stories we tell about it.”
~Byron Katie

What works for you?

This piece was reprinted from the last issue of the Creative Times, our monthly newsletter.
Click here to subscribe!

Sep 7

7 Comments

The Importance of Making Space

Making space for your creative work is almost as important as making time for your creative work. When you have a work space that feels inviting and inspiring — even if it’s just the corner of a room — turning to your creative work feels like a delightful retreat, rather than just another item on your endless “to-do” list.

In her fabulous book, The Creative Habit, Twyla Tharp notes: “To get the creative habit, you need a working environment that’s habit-forming.” When you have a space that calls to you, it’s easier to go there regularly. Regularity, as Tharp points out throughout her book (as the title would suggest), is the heart of creative output.

We all know Virginia Woolf’s famous dictum that “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” Woolf was speaking about the feminist need for independence in order to create. Most of us probably feel comparatively liberated, despite the fact that we have children and Woolf did not — but her point is well taken.

Many of us don’t have the luxury of our own room or even the corner of a room to call our own. We take over the dining table when the muse strikes and then have to dismantle the work area when it’s time to eat. If this is the case for you, brainstorm ways to make this process as user-friendly as possible.

It’s also possible that there IS a nook or cranny lurking in your home that you could claim for yourself with a bit of re-thinking. Bring your creative skills to finding a space in your home that helps you return to your creative, authentic self as seamlessly as possible. And if you’re fortunate enough to have your own space, you might spend a bit of time in the coming month editing out anything in this space that doesn’t work for you anymore. Clean it up, organize, bring in a few fresh visuals that speak to you. Make it yours. Then, dig in.

“Without the studio, however humble,
the room where the imagination can enter cannot exist.”
~Anna Hansen

What works for you?

This piece was reprinted from the last issue of the Creative Times, our monthly newsletter.
Click here to subscribe!

Aug 21

4 Comments

Practicing Gratitude

If there’s a quick-fix antidote to feeling overwhelmed, anxious, or off center, it is surely the practice of gratitude.

Feeling grateful requires a return to presence, awareness, and an expansive heart. Filling up on gratitude is incompatible with feelings of irritation. When we connect with what we appreciate in our daily lives, we are both humbled and empowered. As Arianna Huffington observed: “When we recognize the sacred in the mundane, we allow gratitude to enter our lives. Gratitude has always been for me one of the most powerful and least practiced emotions. Living in a state of gratitude is living in a state of grace.”

We know in our hearts that this is true, and yet it’s so easy to drift away from the simple magic of practicing gratitude. One way to incorporate gratitude into daily life is the wonderful practice of keeping a gratitude journal: taking a few moments each evening to make note of the day’s beauty. This can be as simple as a numbered list of half-a dozen words, or a full-on journal entry.

“Music and art both spring from a grateful heart.”
~Katie Wood McCloy

If you have a smartphone, you might want to browse in the app store for one of the many excellent gratitude apps. “Gratitude Journal” for the iPhone is one of my favorites; you can even choose a photo to highlight each day.

Another option it to take some time each morning to focus on what you’re grateful for. You might even consider incorporating gratitude into intention journaling. A mindful expression of gratitude is a wonderful companion to planning the logistic elements of what needs to be accomplished in the coming day. You may find that this practice is as energizing as that extra cup of coffee, but without the jitters. Try it and see what you think!

“The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude.”
~Friedrich Nietzsche

What works for you?

This piece was reprinted from the last issue of the Creative Times, our monthly newsletter. Click here to subscribe!

Jul 6

2 Comments

The Art of Summer

Summertime brings inevitable changes to our daily routines. Whether it’s the longer days, kids out of school, vacation plans, or simply the warmer weather, you may be finding it difficult to focus on your creative work. Here’s how to get the most out of the summer months without losing creative momentum.

  • Use the outdoors to your advantage. If your creative work is portable, take it outside. Paint outside, play music outside, work on your laptop outside. Allow yourself to soak up the intensity of summer and invite the season to permeate your creative work. For those in northern climates, summer is gone in the blink of an eye — so get out there and enjoy it, while being creative to boot. Click here for more on making the most of the outdoors.
  • Chose a creative goal to complete before autumn. Consider the framework of your summer and decide on a reasonable objective. Your goal might be “finish five chapters in my novel,” “complete three canvases,” or simply “be creative every day.” Share your goal with others, as accountability will help you stay on track. You might also consider an external endpoint, such as a contest deadline, to add focus.
  • Set a minimum daily requirement. Summer seems to require an extra dose of flexibility — and the last thing you want is more “shoulds” in your life. That said, it’s helpful to set a “bare minimum” daily requirement as a target. Being creative every day keeps the pump primed and will make it much easier for you to resume your regular creative practice when the time comes. So decide that no matter what, every day you will write 100 words, sketch for 10 minutes, sing for half an hour — whatever makes sense.
  • Take a creative staycation. If budget and/or logistics prohibit going on a creative retreat, make your own. Pick a long weekend, design your own program, and send the kids to grandma’s. Your retreat can include a trip to a museum, a long solitary walk, browsing art magazines or an inspiring book, and of course, plenty of creative practice.

This article originally appeared in the June 2011 newsletter of the Creativity Coaching Association. Reprinted by permission.

Jun 30

6 Comments

Miranda: I Surrender

Many of us grapple with a mounting sense that things aren’t quite right. Life is beautiful, in lots of ways, but if we could just shift this or that or accomplish X, the pieces would fit together better and we could make it all work. At that magical moment, we’d finally arrive at that elusive place of “balance” that everyone always talks about.

With trumpet fanfare in the background, we’d finally figure out how to raise happy children while holding down a job, reading two books a week, keeping the house spotless, fitting into our skinny jeans, growing heirloom tomatoes, and making mind-boggling progress in our creative work that results in a finished project that ultimately brings fame and fortune.

Right?

I’ve spent many (most) years of my life pursuing support systems and strategies that I believe will enable the flow and sense of ease that we all yearn for. I often seem tantalizingly close ~ if I could just tweak my organizational systems a bit or come up with a few more ounces of self-discipline then I would really be at the top of my game. I’d be able to do all of the most important things and stay constructively focused on my priorities.

Right?

Well, not so much. Despite my deep, abiding affection for all things organizational and relating to time management and life design, I must acknowledge that my addiction to these tools is often just another distraction. The truth is, I can’t get this messy, often chaotic life to “balance.” The pieces are big and unwieldy and no matter what I do, they’re going to fall on my head. And you know what? That’s OK. Balance isn’t really the point.

Increasingly, when I feel uncomfortable or anxious, I am able to take a breath and say, “This, too.” My preschooler has another toilet-training accident on the living room carpet? This, too. A client miscommunicates a marketing project outline and I end up having to start all over again? This, too. I can’t find time to finish that art project with the kids? This, too. The collard greens I’d planned to steam for dinner have gone wilted and weepy in the crisper? This, too. It’s the resistance that causes suffering.

I’m learning how to let go into things that are seemingly unpleasant or upsetting. I ask myself, in the refrain of Buddhist teachers, “Is this worth sacrificing my ease?” Because in truth, 99% of the time, whatever irritation or anxiety I’m experiencing is really not worth losing my sense of peace. Ease is always there, always within grasp, if I chose it.

When you start choosing ease as a matter of habit, you begin to realize how much you used to get carried away by the utterly minor dramas of daily life. You begin to notice how other people around you seem to complain a lot and are constantly fixated on what isn’t working. You can’t help but observe how so many others unwittingly opt for disharmony.

You can’t change other people, and that’s OK. You can’t be all things to everyone at the same time. You can’t do everything you want to accomplish today, right now. You can’t fit your many passions into a simultaneous funnel. But you can learn to wake up in wonder at the start of each new day.

This, too.

This piece was reprinted from a past issue of the Creative Times, our monthly newsletter. Click here to subscribe!

Feb 25

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Mary: Portals of Discovery

Nobody’s perfect, and I’m no exception.

Still, I hope, in my vain, rose-colored-glasses kind of way, to step up and be as good a person as I can be. Sometimes it’s easy.

Sometimes it’s a little tricky.

I think of all the things I could be doing as a mother, for example. And all the endless possible reactions I might have to things my children do, things that I might possibly be letting go, blurring out, things that happen right in front of me. Jack, for example, making his sister a flower out of a pipe cleaner, a button, and some felt letters. Adding a small piece of paper for the card, and drawing a kitty on it. And, what do I say?

“It’s too early in the morning for this!” “Can’t you do this later?” “Make sure you clean up that mess.” And so on.

Meanwhile, I’m completely neglecting the obvious. Which is, my boy is the sweetest on earth for making this small gift for his sister — who was sad because at a festival we went to yesterday, he got a sword and she didn’t get anything. He got right up and made her this thing. This gift from the center of his heart. And all his Mum could say is, “Not now! Clean it up! It’s too early!” (Insert frownie face here).

Now, I know that I might be somewhat harsh on myself, but there are times at the end of the day, when I look back and see what might have been.

Mommy, will you read to me?

Mommy, look! Look at what I made!

Mommy, will help me with this puzzle?

Mommy, will you sing with me?”

Mommy, I’m going to make you some basil eggplant soup!

Mommy, look at me!

Mommy, look at me!

Mommy, look!

Look!

“Mm hm.”

“That’s nice.”

“Good.”

“Not now, I’m really busy.”

“Can’t it wait until later?”

In the meantime, these moments, these precious little segments that make up life, are passing me by quicker than I can spin around. Maybe I’m distracted. Maybe I’m preoccupied. Maybe I’m just plain misguided.

Because, really, how important are the dishes? Who cares if the bathroom doesn’t get cleaned until later this afternoon? And, do I really need to get the query letter out this morning? (Oh, yes. Yes, that, too. And, actually — I do).

In the end, I suppose we all need to forgive ourselves for the imperfection. Without embracing our mistakes and foibles, stumbles and slips, we would never learn about life at all, and perhaps go through our days thinking all is peachy keen and rosy. Our outlook on ourselves would be, at best, imprudent. At worst, perilous.

I need my mistakes, need to cozy up to them on the couch and talk, need to put my head on their shoulder, my arms around their neck, and give them a squeeze. After all, my mistakes are my allies in disguise. They guide me, and help me get one step closer to that state of enlightenment, which is achieved by my acknowledgment, acceptance, and my letting go of that which has been put upon me by something external — something immaterial.

When I let go, I can jump right into the mud puddle that is true life and nature, and splosh around and get really dirty with the spirit and exhilaration of a child. I can be re-introduced to myself, and then shyly take my own hand, leading myself to something better — to a better person, a better me — the me that is already there, the me that can come out at any time. The very pinnacle of my potential. (Try saying that five times fast).

Yes, I’ll make mistakes again. Quite possibly the same ones I’ve made before, actually. But if I’m careful, if I keep my eyes open, someday I can turn it around and reach a new place in my life, where I catch a glimpse of love and righteousness before it gets squashed down by some dadblasted little mistake. Where the ripple in the water outshines the grossly populated highway. Where a little felt flower never goes unnoticed.

Cross-posted from Ophelia Rising.

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