I recently came upon this quote by American existential psychologist, Rollo May: “Real creativity is not possible without anxiety. In many ways, it’s the price of admission to the artist’s life.”
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Have you ever had this thought: I’m not a real writer. I have. My students and clients have. In fact, most writers I know have been caught in this gremlin snare more times than they’d care to admit.
A few months ago I bought a moonstone egg. When I roll the hard, cool stone in my hand, I visualize my memoir, which has not yet “hatched,” but is gestating. The blue tinge on the stone’s surface reminds me of the challenges I face writing it, the difficulty of mining the depths, telling the truth, and conveying complex human emotions.
Last week, as many of you know, I attended Camp Scripps, a camp run by and for alums of Scripps College, a liberal arts college for women in Claremont, California. Sister alumnae reunited for four days of workshops, camaraderie, connection, and fun. Workshops included tiara-making, creative writing, belly dancing, flamenco, yoga, art journaling, T’ai Chi, water aerobics, needlepoint, meditation, flower arranging, basket weaving, soul collage, soap making, art jam, Nia, poetry, and more. There were also botanical garden and photography walks, lectures, and a panel on how to get your book published.
Often people don’t recognize the value of their creative expression until they share it.
That’s why I host literary salons featuring my students and their work. I wrote this in response to a client’s question, “How do I practice self-love?”
12 Ways to Practice Self-Love
In Martha Beck’s book, The Joy Diet, risk is listed as an essential ingredient for joy. According to Beck, the criterion by which we should decide which dangers and fears to face, and which to avoid, should not be measured by our chances of success, but by the depth of our desire. She says that any risk worth taking is worth taking whether it leads to success or failure, and if your objective is not something you really want, even a tiny risk is a stupid one.
Eight months ago I wasn’t interested in taking any more writing risks. After thirty years cultivating my craft I wanted to be paid to write a book. So I hired a coach, hunkered down, and wrote my proposal for The Raw Years: A Midlife Healing Memoir. Now that I’m agent shopping, which takes time, I’m returning to writing my chapters. My gremlins got pissed when they realized this. “That’s not the deal we made,” they hissed. “You were supposed to get an agent and a publisher so this manuscript wouldn’t end up in your file cabinet with all the others.” In other words, they said, “Show me the money!” But I had nothing to show. Not a publisher or agent (yet), and no guarantees. I knew I couldn’t predict the fate of this or any other manuscript. All I knew was writing this book made me happy. It’s my dream and I don’t want to let it go—no matter what happens. To help me get past my petulant writing gremlins, Brooke Warner, my writing coach, said, “Success in writing is reaching your readers—and there are many ways to do this. Everything is changing. The ground is rumbling underneath the publishing industry. Commit to your readers. You have the potential to reach people—with or without agents and publishers. The main thing is to reach your readers, and keep the faith.” My life coach, Tracey Brown, told me to think of outcomes as extras, and focus on actions I can take, such as writing one chapter at a time, and to consider the hearts, minds, and souls of the people I’d like to touch. Gremlins dwell in the land of ego. Engaging them is fruitless. Turning to Spirit, on the other hand, guarantees I’ll feast at life’s banquet. So with a prayer that my life’s work will one day reach as many readers as possible, and touch them deeply I’m moving forward with my memoir. It feels great to be writing it again. My gremlins have quieted down since learning that I plan to divide my project into milestones, and celebrate future accomplishments with treats. This is much more empowering than dangling a carrot I can’t control, such as getting an agent or a book deal. I will honor the completion of each chapter with an artist date and plan something special for myself, perhaps something I wouldn’t ordinarily do. I will go see a film; visit a museum; go to the beach, or a garden, or an art gallery; maybe a workshop or lunch out—something nourishing and fun. Completing a section of my book, there are three—Body, Mind, & Spirit—wins me a weekend retreat alone or with my husband, but the emphasis will be on celebrating my accomplishment. When I complete the book I’ll spend a week or more at a gourmet raw, vegan spa. I’ve got my eye on the Hippocrates Health Center in the Philippines. My daughter’s drama teacher grades his students on effort, participation, and assignment completion—and not on talent because talent is subjective. So is all creative work. It’s essential to do our creative work for ourselves, but also for the people who are waiting to receive it, and whose lives will be enriched by our efforts. This morning I completed a draft of chapter four (of 27) of my memoir. Writing this book is a risk near and dear to my heart, which tells me it’s a risk worth taking. In terms of assessing risk, Beck asks, “Is this a risk you’d regret not having taken? Would your regret be worse than potential failure or disappointment? Which would be worse, your disappointment over failing or knowing you never tried?” To me the answer is clear: trying is the most important thing. Trying is within my control. The rest is not. So if you’re wondering whether to take a risk, either personally or professionally, look not to your chances of success, but to the depth of your desire. What risk are you taking? Or thinking about taking? I’d love to hear about it. My meditation practice helps me sit still, observe my mind, connect with and listen to my spirit. This is harder to do when my body is tense, which was the case this morning. I’d awakened with a stiff neck. When my neck, a bridge between my body and mind, is stiff and shut down, I experience congestion, both mental and physical. So I moved my body.
I used to feel guilty moving during meditation. I thought I was supposed to sit absolutely still. But there are many ways to mediate, and as much as I savor stillness, movement is as life-giving as breath. Intuitive movement also breaks habitual patterns and helps you discover untapped resources. It creates additional pathways in the brain, which leads to new and original thinking. A couple days ago my friend, Kathy Dolin, a massage therapist and yoga teacher, was talking to me about fascia, the layer of soft, connective tissue that runs through our bodies and protects our muscles, blood vessels, nerves and other structures. She mentioned the work of John Barnes, the leading authority on Myofascial Release, a holistic, hands-on therapy designed to treat a range of maladies, including back pain, headaches, carpal tunnel syndrome, painful scars, sciatica, Fibromyalgia, women’s health issues and more. Barnes is the source of the wonderful quote: “Healing is not an event, it is a process.” Therapeutic release can occur directly—with hands-on pressure, but also indirectly, through dance. “Dance is a way of myofascial unwinding,” Kathy said. The body is a wise teacher. Intuitive, creative movement is a great way to listen inwardly, relieve stress, and heal. It doesn’t matter if you move alone or with others. I recommend both. To find creative movement venues in your area check out Conscious Dancer Magazine. Here are a few creative movement facilitators and venues in the Los Angles area: Spirit Weaves with Anneli and Michael, Medicine Dance with Fred Sugarman, Body Freedom with Tarnie Faloon, Moving Theater with Camille Maurine, and Soul Dance with Alisha Hayes. I will be offering my BodyTalk Creative Movement and Writing Workshop this summer or fall. Movement and writing are exquisite muses that work beautifully together. Giving voice to body parts is a powerful, surprising, and joyous process. It’s also a wonderful way to integrate body, mind, and spirit. Comments? Questions? Thoughts? I’d love to hear from you! Recently, in a phone conversation with a friend, I confessed to being anxious and impatient while agents read my book proposal. My friend said, “You’re the essence of what a writer is. I see nothing but blue skies and green lights for you. You’ve demonstrated mastery in terms of manifestation.”
“What?” I asked, struggling to take this in. “Look at what you’ve accomplished this year—you’ve clearly demonstrated an ability to manifest your heart’s desires and make your dreams come true.” My gremlins squirmed, and then muttered that my good fortune had all been a stroke of luck that couldn’t possibly last. But my Wise Self knew better. Deep down I understood that what I’d created had nothing to do with luck, that my external gains were a result of inner growth. This growth came from activities such as meditation, journal writing, affirmations, inspirational reading, and other soul-nurturing practices, including Living Visions. Living Visions are tools to help people manifest what they want in their lives. I was introduced to this technique at the University of Santa Monica and have used it for over five years. This simple but powerful exercise helped me write my poetry book, design my website, plan, pitch, and implement my Scripps College residency, start this blog, and complete my Raw Years book proposal. It has also helped me expand my writing classes, which have tripled in size over the past two years, and build a thriving coaching practice. Here’s how Living Visions work: Think of something you want. Now imagine whatever you want is unfolding exactly the way you’d like it to. Write somebody you love a letter. Make sure this person is someone who believes in you and in your dreams. Someone who genuinely wants the best for you. Tell them what’s happening. Talk best-case scenarios. You are getting exactly what you want. Describe your joyful situation in the present tense with as much detail as possible. Make it at least 50 percent believable, but also really stretch into it. Explore what you want. Be specific. When you’re done, cut the salutation (dear so-and-so) and put this statement at the beginning and end of what you’ve written: “This or something better for the highest good of all concerned.” I write this because I realize I’m not God and cannot see the big picture of my life. Perhaps the Universe has something different—or even larger—in mind for me. I don’t want to limit myself in terms of what I manifest. Also, these words remind me to trust my spiritual source. Knowing I am not alone—that I’m co-creating with a divine partner—empowers me. It also takes the pressure off. I do my part and Spirit does its part. You may be, as I once was, skeptical of this process. But try it and you’ll see more of what you want (and less of what you don’t want) show up in your life. This is a co-creative process and it’s fun, especially if you enjoy writing. Here’s a Living Vision I wrote recently as an example. This Living Vision has to do with my book proposal, The Raw Years: A Midlife Healing Memoir, which, as I mentioned, is being read by agents right now. This vision is more than 50 percent believable. Writing this not only helped me clarify what I want, but when I read it I feel as though I already have it. These feelings are magnetic attractors. My living vision is a prayer, a wish, and a genuine declaration to the universe about what I want and how I’d like to see it unfold--if it’s for the highest good of all concerned. *** Living Vision: Agent THIS OR SOMETHING BETTER FOR THE HIGHEST GOOD OF ALL CONCERNED My agent is impressed with and excited by my proposal and envisions the book and its success clearly. She calls me to offer representation, and we hit it off. We both have strong, positive vibes. My agent has great ideas about where to send the proposal. She is also a good listener, and values my suggestions. My agent is connected with the perfect publishing people, has great relationships with the right editors, and realizes that the timing for this project couldn’t be better. Her enthusiasm for my books is infectious. She negotiates a fast and fabulous deal. My agent is a savvy businesswoman, but is also warm and charming. She is the perfect representative of my work and of me. She resonates with my writing and helps me stretch beyond what I think possible. She maps out new avenues for career expansion and assists me in unexpected ways; she helps me get writing assignments for magazines, points out teaching opportunities, and hooks me up with a terrific publicist. She goes above and beyond the call of duty. My agent thinks about the big picture of my writing and my career. She’s one of my biggest advocates and cheerleaders. She’s loyal, dedicated, responsible, and trustworthy. She represents me with knowledge, grace, and heart, and speaks truth with kindness. My agent is a wonderful advisor, career guide, and friend. We respect and admire each other and work well together. THIS OR SOMETHING BETTER FOR THE HIGHEST GOOD OF ALL CONCERNED *** What are you longing for? What are you creating? Even if you don’t write a Living Vision, writing about your dreams will bring them into focus, and if you act upon them, little-by-little and one step at a time, chances are good you’ll make your dreams come true. If not, at least you’ll know you’ve tried. And trying is all any of us can do. Trying is within our control. The rest—the part to which we must surrender—is mysterious and divine. I’d love to hear your thoughts on manifesting what you want and making your dreams come true. And of course, I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have. |
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