words and pictures

People have told me about The Artist’s Way (by Julia Cameron), and particularly about the “Morning Pages” for years. I’d never felt inspired to actually read it until a good friend recommended it last fall, so I picked up a copy. I set out to follow the directions and began writing my three pages diligently every single morning. It was a disaster. I was already in the midst of making major changes (quitting my job, leaving a beloved apartment, and making a cross country move) and on the verge of exhaustion. The last thing I needed to do was spend the first 45 minutes of my day dwelling on my many anxieties. My nerves were frayed and I was already well on my way down the road of making many necessary changes. I didn’t need to identify them and make them happen – I just needed to survive them.

Also, while I found the chapters interesting, I would quickly become overwhelmed with the suggested activities and questions. After spending years in my prolonged career crisis situation, I’d already done similar exercises ad nauseum (lists ofwhat you liked as a child, what people have told you you’re good at, or what your ideal this or that would be, or what are obstacles in your path… etc.) and wasn’t finding anything new. Again, it was only adding to the burden of feeling frustrated and running in place. I’m insightful and reflective to a fault, and rather than providing a helpful path to insight, it just bogged me down further in my own introspective ruts.  Wheels spinning, mud flying, just getting deeper and deeper. That’s what it felt like.

Over the past few weeks I have (for whatever reason) picked up the book again. A friend told me about the 750words.com site, which is based on the morning pages idea. I have been looking for ways to bring (VERY) gentle discipline to the process of finding what I’m drawn to creatively and engaging in those things. I am experimenting with doing something EVERY DAY, without having expectations about what the outcome or product of that may be.

I’ve always been drawn to (and fairly adept in handling) words and writing. It’s something I’ve always enjoyed and always been good at. I’ve written in journals more or less regularly since college. It’s a very natural form of expression for me. The problem is that it’s easy for regular writing practice (either in the morning pages or the 750words) to devolve into journally introspection, which isn’t necessarily the most helpful and certainly not the most stretching thing I could be doing. I can see how for others with less of an inclination to words, it could be revelatory, but for me, there’s not much new in the experience itself. So it makes sense that I struggle with the fact that this recommendation for creative practice is so densely wordy. Writing here is the same way – though it’s something new and different, it feels sometimes that it’s feeding an oversized part of myself that doesn’t need any more calories and smushing other parts that might need room to grow out of the way.

Another friend began making mandalas a few years ago. I’d seen a couple of them and talked with her at length about how they’d opened the door to an interesting process and journey for her, especially around some potent emotions related to family. I’ve been coming across mandalas lately as I’ve been poking around books and websites related to Carl Jung. Of course a lot of this is a departure from, say, the traditional Tibetan mandalas – this is a much more touchy-feely Western version, more of a psychological tool, representative of an inner journey and less connected to a religious meaning or structure.

Occasionally over the past several years, I’ve been inclined to pick up paper and crayons/pencils/pastels/whatever. The outcome has been some evocative drawings. They’re not at all good in a technical/representational sense. But as a form of expression and emotional outlet, it’s been interesting. So this week I found some suggestions for mandala-making and have been experimenting. I’ve been trying 15 minutes of “mindfulness” meditation – i.e. sitting still, focusing on my own breathing, and trying to let thoughts that come into my mind flow past rather than dwelling on them. Then I take a piece of paper, draw a circle on it, and start to draw. (p.s. I am not a regular meditator – the closest I get is a few minutes at a time during yoga classes.)

There are definitely symbolic elements that take shape on the page, but the most interesting (to me) part is that at certain points my relationship to what I am doing changes. I stop thinking about what I am putting on the page, without consciously choosing or crafting either the look of it or the symbolic content. I literally just go with the flow. And it feels great.

That also reminds me of the book, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain – another classic in the creative instruction field. The whole point of that is to get out of Left-Brain (judging, evaluating, controlling) mode and into Right-Brain (flowing, perceiving, expressive).

Sometimes that right-brain “flow” happens. I’ve felt it in writing, in running, in speaking another language, while driving, and at other different and unpredictable times (even at work or just moving through tasks I need to do in a day). Too much reflection kills it, just like too much inattention will. I think part of tapping into creativity means finding where that flow can happen and then opening the way for more of it. Right now these very simple, unconstrained structures (writing 750 words, drawing in a circle) are giving me just the right amount of shape to feel a sense of accomplishment without the stress of producing something “good.”

On some level it’s pure expression – raw and uncrafted. On another, it’s discovering a vocabulary of images and experiences that are meaningful. It’s practice in being impartial with myself and observing without judgment and without expectation. Judging and crafting come later. For now, I’m just exploring what’s possible.