happiness Archives - West of the Moon Creative Retreat

Listen With Your Heart

March 20, 2015 By Dave Leave a Comment

“Listen With Heart” by Len Matthews

“The things which hurt, instruct.” – Benjamin Franklin

As a boy, my one true love . . . was basketball.

That’s right. Like Juliet to Romeo, basketball was the sun, only . . . okay, well, that may be stretching it a bit. But the idea of playing, the feeling I got from being on the hardwood or the blacktop found its way into every corner of my brain, it climbed beneath my skin, so all I thought about was shooting hoops.

Now, I was a skinny kid with asthma who couldn’t run fast, couldn’t jump high. So, you know, me and basketball were the perfect match.

I loved playing basketball so much, I spent every day, rain or shine, shooting, dribbling, running, jumping rope, trying to get better. I sought out coaches I respected and asked them for drills. And they shared them with me, even though I didn’t play for them. That struck me as quite generous.

It was that way all through high school, too.

The summer between my junior and senior year, I averaged 10+ hours of basketball every day. I played in a park about six miles from my home. It took me an hour to walk there every day after driver’s education, dribbling my ball, stopping at two other courts along the way for some practice shots, maybe a few games of one-on-one.

I won’t go into the whole story, not here, but suffice it to say, my dream was to play Division I basketball at UNC. Syracuse would have been my second choice and Virgina third (James Worthy, Louie Orr, Ralph Sampson were all playing back in those days). I spent all my energy chasing that dream and, even in retrospect, those were the best days in my young life.

I spent every minute I could doing the thing I loved. I lived the thing I loved. I was the thing I loved. Life doesn’t get much better than that.

Just after the season started during my senior year, I blocked a shot in practice and came down on a teammate’s foot, snapping my ankle. My season was over. I worked hard to rehab, hoped that if I gave myself time during my first year in college to fully recover, I could try out for the team as a sophomore.

But as Robert Frost put it, way leads on to way.

Over the years, my dreams have changed. I wouldn’t say they’ve been abandoned, as much as that they morphed. Other interests rose up. Of course, for much of my life I didn’t listen to those interests, not beyond having some deep down feeling in my gut.

I think that’s true of many of us. We get swept up in the whole way leading on to way and, for some of us, we forget to listen. We stop listening for any number of reasons. But it’s important to listen. I think that’s where happiness lives, in the listening, and in the doing . . . in both.

It took me decades before I heard that voice inside letting me know that I had a new love, a new passion. There was this completely different thing I never expected that filled me with the same kind of feelings I got from playing ball (and i did it most days without getting sweat in my eyes).

You’re here because you’re a creative – a writer, or a painter, or a singer, or a photographer, or a gardener, or a mixed media artist, or . . . You’ve already done some listening. On Fridays we tend to look back on the week, or further, and reflect on the action steps we took related not just to our goals, but to our intentions. What things did we do to honor that voice deep down inside us?

Some weeks we may do more than others. Some weeks we may find ourselves on a different path entirely. That’s the importance of listening. Of paying attention. Sometimes our dreams change. And that’s not necessarily bad or good. You have to decide – by listening . . .

Sometimes an obstacle arises that is painful, that keeps us from our goals, from our dreams for a time. But those are the times we learn about ourselves . . . if we listen. We learn different paths to those dreams, or we learn those dreams may have only been part of our story. That is why understanding our intentions is so important. Why listening . . . to our hearts, to our souls is so important.

The photo at the top is titled “Listen With Heart” and it claims that a true friend listens with the heart. Sometimes we forget to be a true friend to ourselves. That’s all we’re suggesting now.

Take a few moments today and be still. Take a few deep breaths and listen. What is your heart telling you? Your soul? What is your dream? And what steps have you taken toward it?

If you haven’t taken any, well, that happens. But let’s not except that as the only outcome. After all, you just listened and that’s a step.

Now answer this – what is the first step or the next step you will take?

Photo Credit: “Listen With Heart” by Len Matthews photo above is used as per Creative Commons License on Flickr.

The Hidden Paths

February 27, 2015 By Terry Price 1 Comment

“Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate

And though I oft have passed them by

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the Moon, East of the Sun.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, part of Frodo’s walking song from Lord of the Rings

A few years after Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee return to the shire, Frodo makes up new words to an old song and sings it softly during a walk as he prepares for a new journey. Aside from the beautiful lyricism of the poetry and rhythm, it is the words that bring magic to this walking song.

This is a song of adventure and of faith. I use the term “faith” here in a spiritual sense rather than a religious. In this case, it is a return from a grand adventure of a lifetime that fosters Frodo’s faith and it is his faith that compels him to seek another adventure. Faith is a belief in the intangible, in things unseen but sometimes, things sensed or felt. It is a belief in something better, a working form of optimism.

What is adventure?

It’s not what happens to you. Rather, adventure is how you perceive the events of your life. For some, driving cross-country is a routine job to do as quickly and efficiently as possible. For others, a trip to the local grocer holds promise of the unknown. You define adventure. You determine whether you live a life filled with it. You.

A sense of adventure says there could be a new road or a secret gate around the next corner, a corner that you’ve come around most every day of your life. But this time…this time, maybe it’s different. And how does one believe in a hidden path, let alone find and take it?

This is the adventure of a creative soul. This is the life of the artist. We wake up believing. In what?

In everything. The creative believes in possibilities. The artists go to the medium with the faith that an adventure will take place, that on this page, one that looks just like all the rest, a new road might be found, a secret gate might be revealed. It is a faith that leads to the adventure.

The artist lives a life of faith and adventure because she knows anything less is not living. The artist develops and nurtures a creative practice to which she returns again and again, finding things that heretofore did not exist. Faith is knowing that one day she will take the hidden paths which shall be revealed only as the first step is taken and not before. Anything less and magic is removed from the adventure, faith is rendered unnecessary.

It is the same with a creative life.

It is the difference between waking up excited at possibilities and waking up dreading the routine.

This past week, we had a great deal of snow for the Nashville area. Crossing a parking lot I saw two pennies on a bare spot of concrete and picked one up, leaving the other. “Good luck!” I said to my friend as I held it up before pocketing it. “I’m not bending down for a penny and take a chance on messing up my back,” he replied. “You don’t believe that stuff, do you?”

It made me think. No, I don’t believe that the serendipitous discovery of a copper coin will affect my fate. But I’m glad that I keep looking for those things not because they bring me luck, rather they remind me to be present, to remember the good things I am blessed with. They are keys to a secret gate, not the gate itself. One/one-hundreth of a dollar will not get you anything anymore. But an object can become a talisman in the hands of an alchemist. It becomes a symbol of the magic constantly surrounding us so, in a way, it can actually bring us luck.

I left the other penny hoping another traveller finds it on another adventure. As for me, it’s time for another walk. I feel a song a comin’ on.

Let Me Live Again

November 6, 2014 By Terry Price Leave a Comment

“Creativity is more than just being different. Anybody can plan weird; that’s easy. What’s hard is to be as simple as Bach. Making the simple, awesomely simple, that’s creativity” – Charles Mingus

Creativity is who we are.

The fascinating thing is that it takes a lifetime to believe that.

We are creators.

But it takes the courage, the patience, the living experience to understand it…to believe it.

We live lives desperately trying to fit in when it is the essence of life to discover, to understand our uniqueness. What is it that makes us who we are?

I remember learning in grade school that every snowflake was unique. It was different from any snowflake that had ever existed. I had trouble believing that because when I looked out into the back yard (back when it really snowed in Nashville) all I saw was a big pile of snow. All white. All cold. All solid.

But I learned that each molecule was different, even as it combined to make the whole.

And so it is with us.

I am a creator. But I am a different creator from you, my friend. You are a creator too. But you are different. But not just different. You are different in such a simple way. I think that what Mingus was trying to say is that you are different from the essence of who you are. That’s the simplicity. That’s Dorothy learning that she knew all long how to get home. That’s how George Bailey learned how he had all of the adventure and paradise he longed for right within the walls of his home and his family.

Maybe we are called to be explorers of new lands or new ideas. Maybe we are called to be explorers of our own backyards. Neither is more important than the other. Both are unique.

One of the wonderful secrets to life is finding the magic where we are. Find the magic where we are called to be. It might be on the moon or in a castle in Tuscany. But it’s just as likely to be in a small frame house in Tennessee. You see, location isn’t important. The willingness to believe, the willingness to see the magic in the everyday, the “ordinary,” is what makes it awesome. It’s what makes life and living amazing. It’s what makes us unique and special. And we are. You are. You are as simple and as complex and magnificent as Bach or any of his symphonies. Or as Charles Mingus, who was brilliant enough to “get it.”

Self-Doubt and Worry

May 1, 2014 By Dave Leave a Comment

“Worried Eggs II” by Domiriel

“I’ve had a lot of worries in my life,  most of which never happened.” – Mark Twain

Self-Doubt plagues many writers, artists, creatives (i.e. worry that they might not have something worthwhile to say, or that they might not be able to say it in a worthwhile way). The often crippling result is that the worry part often gets in the way of the trying part. And that’s a shame.

The worthiness component indicates self-judgement, which indicates time spent in the old noggin.

Writers sometimes worry about the outcome and, as a result, have a difficult time getting started. It is almost impossible to settle into a creative act and to fully immerse yourself if you are worried. Focus is directed to the imagined possible outcome, emotional energy is redirected to the fight or flight response rather than being used for diving down deep where memory and the imagination meet. That’s where the creating happens – in that very out of the way place and it requires a slowing down – it takes solitude of a sort, it takes stillness – to get there.

But when worry becomes anxiety becomes fear, the imagination is so preoccupied there’s not much room for anything else.

Look, we are creatures of emotion and imagination. We have the capacity to feel and to think and to imagine. Our brains are always on. One of those things (a thought, an emotion, etc) can spark the others without our consciously setting out to do so.

That’s part of being human.

But it’s also part of what gets in the way of our realizing our dreams, or even chasing them sometimes. And it sometimes gets in the way of our being happy (regardless of whether we chase our dreams or not).

“Understand not everything is meant to be understood . . .” by deeplifequotes

The key is finding ways to become cognizant of the differences Karen pointed out between fear and worry. Fear being a real, in that moment, threat. Worry being an imagined future possibility (and that doesn’t mean you have to think about the future, you can worry that a thing has already happened that you hope hasn’t happened, but since you don’t know in the present moment, it’s still a possible future consequence that is being given time and space in the present).

So, what can we do, if we in fact identify the culprit, WORRY invading our lives?

The answer will be varied, as we’re all different, the reasons behind our worry are also different.

Here are a few things that might help you get out of the chattering-in-the-head mode so you can be present:

Breathing Exercises – We humans live in our heads. All of the time. Hence the universal appeal of external methods to help get us out of our heads for a bit.

But one thing we often forget is that we also live in our bodies. All the time. The mind, the body, the emotions . . . they’re all connected. And sometimes, rather than dulling the mind, which often leads to worse feelings afterwards and a lack of productivity in the moment, we might get out of our heads through our bodies. By breathing. By moving. By training our brains to focus in on specific things.

Yoga – most people think yoga requires you to be a contortionist, that you have to be super-bendy for it to work, but just sitting still, just slowing down and being aware of the moment, of your body, of your breath, that is yoga. You can do it in a chair, on the floor. You don’t have to go to a studio or be on the mat.

Two poses I like for just slowing down and calming the mind are Savasana (Corpse Pose) and Viparita Karani (Fountain of Youth or Legs-Up-The-Wall Pose).

Get Outside (to Walk and to Observe) – walking by itself is great, but you can still spend the whole time going over and over and over what might come to pass, which is why honing in on the moment is important).

Focus on the air. What’s it doing? How does it feel?

Is the sun out? How does that feel?

What sort of shadows does it create?

What can you smell? Or hear?

What do you truly see?

Allow your senses to be fully engaged.

Most of us tool around on our walks in these beautiful settings (myself included) totally oblivious to the setting itself. We feel good, often much better just by being there. Often without even paying much attention once we’re there. So why do we feel better? You can get an idea of the answer if you allow yourself to engage your senses. If you see something and you slow down or stop and really take it in, you suddenly become aware of the moment and of the place. You are truly present in time and space.

And here are a few things that might help get out of the fight or flight response that happens if worry leads to fear (which Karen also indicated can lead to panic):

Find a Pose – I love Yoga Journal. You can find an assortment of poses with photos on how to do the pose and they also break down the therapeutic and the physiological benefits (i.e. how the poses can benefit the body, as well as the mind and the emotions). Look at all these poses that can help with ANXIETY. That’s right, you don’t have to do an entire sequence to reap the benefits.

Just Stop – Jon Kabat-Zinn defines MINDFULNESS as “moment to moment, non-judgmental awareness.” He claims, the ONLY MOMENT we are EVER ALIVE IN is NOW.” He also says we need to pay attention in the moment.

Meditation– no, that is NOT medication. Nice try! Here’s a simple video with a few suggestions on how to meditate. And this article alludes to “Meditation And Your 40,000-Year-Old Brain.”

Free-Write – (if you’re a painter, then just have at it with no purpose aside from adding color to the blank canvas and see what you get). This is not about quality. It’s merely about letting go! You can still pick something you might want to work on, a new poem, a specific scene for the novel, but don’t worry about using it. Allow yourself fifteen minutes or half-an-hour to just spew words on the page or the computer screen. And if you can use a notepad and a pen or pencil, let your body be part of the process.

This can be quite freeing (no pun intended). And here’s an article on a few of the benefits of free-writing in a journal.

Play – give yourself time to be playful (which free-writing is also aimed at).

“The opposite of play is not work. It’s depression.” – Brian Sutton-Smith

“The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct.” – Carl Jung

“Creative people are curious, flexible, persistent, and independent with a tremendous spirit of adventure and a love of play.” – Henri Matisse

“Drag your thoughts away from your troubles . . . by the ears,
by the heels, or any other way you can manage it.” – Mark Twain

Let’s be honest. If it were as easy as saying, drag your thoughts away, none of us would worry for very long. But Twain’s comment is still on point. Do what you can to free your thoughts from your troubles. It’s already a huge undertaking to turn inward, to hold your breath and dive to your very depths in order to tap that wellspring, and to create.

But if your thoughts are entwined with your worries, breath-holding becomes involuntary, you flounder in the shallow end, and often never truly submerge. You never fully immerse yourself in your unconscious and let it take over. You never get into any sort of flow.

“How much pain they have cost us,
the evils which have never happened.” – Thomas Jefferson

I bet if we went back over the past year, decade, longer, and sorted out all the worries we’ve had from all the real problems that actually happened, one side of that scale would far surpass the other.

Think of all that time and energy spent worrying being used to do the thing you love.

Don’t get me wrong. I worry. Worrying is, as I said before, part of the human condition. The trick comes, I believe, in recognizing worry for what it is and squelching the anxiety before it takes over.

Here’s one suggestion I came across recently for calming the mind, emotions, body:

“Begin with the Lotus position, sitting crossed legged with hands resting on the knees, palms up. The most important thing is to remember to breathe. To calm the rapid breathing often accompanying panic attacks, focus on your breathing at first, a five count in and a five count out, but let the breathing become natural. Let the breathing set the rhythm of the practice. Eyes should be closed, listening to the rhythm of the breathing. After five or ten minutes here, the body should feel calmer.” (This tip comes from an article on “10 Yoga Poses to Fight Depression and Anxiety” which can be found here).

“Don’t worry. Be happy.” Nice song. Wise words. Difficult task. But you can do it. Hopefully a few of the above tips will help. After all, I’m hoping you get to the page, too. Speaking of which, it’s time for me to work on some new poems.

Keep after it, y’all!

The above post was taken from a longer post. You can read the original post here.

““Understand not everything is meant to be understood . . .” by deeplifequotes, “Worried Eggs II” by Domiriel, and “Don’t Worry Be Happy” by Evil Erin are all used as per Creative Commons License on Flickr.

What If?

April 19, 2014 By Terry Price Leave a Comment

“It always amuses me that the biggest praise for my work comes for the imagination, while the truth is that there’s not a single line in all my work that does not have a basis in reality. The problem is that Caribbean reality resembles the wildest imagination.” ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Whenever I work with writers, especially those who feel as if they’ve hit a dead end in their work, I encourage them to play the game of “what if.”

“What if” is exactly what it sounds like. And it is unrestricted. The focus of the game is to be playful and to get out of your left brain, rational, logical thinking, at least for the moment. It’s designed to return to that playful mode we experienced as children; when we made up stories and never, ever had “writer’s block.” Nothing was impossible.

What about life?

Sometimes we work so hard to live our own life story, we reach dead ends and don’t know where to turn. We reach a “life block.” We work so hard to do rational, logical, “grown-up” things and yet we move through life as if we’re not getting anywhere. People look around and ask, “is this all there is?”

The answer lies in your imagination.

If you only believe that the world of your senses, the world of your intellect, is all there is…you will be right. But, conversely, if you believe there is more, much more, maybe even life greater than your imagination, you will be right, too.

We live our lives and tell our stories, one often a metaphor for the other. Ultimately, when we write, we decide what possibilities exist for our characters. Ultimately, as we live, we decide what possibilities await for us. We build our own prisons and hold the keys to our release, but only some have the imagination to unlock the doors and venture outside. It is our logic that tells us the safety of the prison is better than the danger of the dragons that await outside.

But is the imagination that whispers “what if…”

What if you were made for slaying dragons?

What if the dragons aren’t what you thought?

What if dragons were actually quite tasty, served with an apple cranberry chutney and a decanted 1999 Brunello?

What if there are no dragons?

There are times in our life when logic and reason are necessary. But there is a season and a time for every things…times when we must escape the structured, limited, confining boundaries of our intelligence. Great works of art are not fashioned from the mind, they are created through the passion of the heart, the soul, and the imagination, all of which have some basis in reality. Life is ultimately not about what you know. It’s about what you don’t know, about what you are willing to learn, about what you are willing to dream…about what you’re willing to be.

Therein lies the fertile playground of the “what-ifs.”

And today is a perfect day to go out and play.

Living a Labyrinth

March 27, 2014 By Terry Price Leave a Comment

Today I did a walking meditation on the seven circuit labyrinth at the Scarritt-Bennett Center in Nashville. It’s been too long since I’ve walked a labyrinth and I’ve known that for awhile but, to be candid, neither the weather nor my personal circumstances have been ideal this winter for walking a labyrinth. Upon approaching the entrance ‘neath the warm Tennessee sun, I felt as if I were entering the doorway of an old friend with whom I had lost touch.

I use labyrinths for different purposes. For the uninitiated, a labyrinth is a circular pathway, with no predictable route, that leads to its center. It differs from a maze in that there are no decisions for the traveler to make and no dead ends. It is the absence of duality, of right and wrong. Once you understand this, you are able to lose yourself in the walk to the extent you are able to trust the pathway. When I say “lose yourself” I’m speaking to the conscious, logical, left-brained you. One foot in front of the other, again, and again, you find your pace, your rhythm which can very easily be different every time you walk a labyrinth. You feel your breath, you feel connected to the ground and disconnected from all that pulls you from your life. Or at least that’s how it works for me.

Anyway, I use the labyrinth for a creative tool to help me with inspirations for my writings. I use labyrinths to help me think through issues whether spiritual, emotional or physical. Or all three. The walking aspect of the labyrinth makes it easier for me to meditate than sitting does. If the weather is decent, I will remove my shoes and socks so I can feel the grass and dirt or the stones, depending upon the surface of the labyrinth.

So today I walked. And I pondered.

I pondered life and death. Relationships. I walked and ruminated about my novel and what I am to learn, not only by writing it but through the process of writing it. I meditated on the retreat Dave and I are leading in June and asked for inspirations and ideas that would excite others about living a creative life.

And while I was walking I suddenly had an epiphany. It became clear the walking of the labyrinth was very much like the living of my life when I am in the midst of doing that which I am supposed to be doing. When I am following my bliss. During those times, it is as if I am living a life path where all along, just waiting for me to enter and trust. Decisions and stress are minimized. I am able to let go and move along until I reach the center which, in this case, is my center.

As I reached the center of the Scarritt-Bennett labyrinth, I clearly saw the path I had just traveled and how, in spite of its meandering appearance, it led me, perfectly, to where I was, where I was supposed to be. It made me think of the essay by Arthur Schopenhauer, “On an Apparent Intention in the Fate of the Individual,” in which he talks about reaching a point when you look back over your life and find a consistent order and plan that transcends randomness, a life that appears to have been composed by a novelist.

I’m not saying that it’s easy as you live it. I’m not even saying that it makes sense at times. I am saying that, for me, trusting there things bigger than me, that are wiser than me, things grander and more magical than my imagination, has brought me to this point. And it is this realization that fuels my passion for my creativity and my art. For it is through my art that I ask the big questions, dream the big dreams, believe the unimaginable. And I do it one step at a time. One breath at a time. I keep following my path. The one that has been there before I was a whisper in a womb, waiting just for me.

Mystery and Art

March 14, 2014 By Terry Price Leave a Comment

“I never know when I sit down, just what I am going to write. I make no plan; it just comes, and I don’t know where it comes from.” ~ D. H. Lawrence

[There is] “the edge between what is known and what is never to be discovered because it is a mystery transcendent of all human research.” ~ Joseph Campbell

More often than not, when we seek answers we immediately grab our smartphones and Google or use other search engines to find the concrete, to learn the facts. Our science is advancing so rapidly that new facts replace old in the matter of days instead of centuries. Our access to information is unlike anything dreamed of fifty years ago as we read our newspapers, listened to radios, and watched televisions.

There is a story, however apocryphal, that in the 1950’s, then President Eisenhower was led into a room with was completely filled with an enormous computer. The engineers challenged the President to ask a question to the computer. The President thought, then asked the engineers to program in the question, “is there a God?”

The computer whirred and hummed for about ten minutes, which was considered to be quite fast in the day. Then lights flashed and a buzzer sounded and a card spat out…”there is NOW!”

Although I laughed at the story, to some degree, information has become a god. To some degree, technology and science have become gods. We live in a time when we believe everything can become known…will become known.

Don’t misunderstand. I love to study and learn. I want to know more. But adding to my accumulation of information does not lessen my wonderment or belief in magic, in mystery. Neither science nor technology can explain love. No amount of research can explain why people will sacrifice themselves for others whom they do not know. There are things so beyond our understanding that we cannot even begin to describe, what Campbell calls the “what is never to be discovered.” In essence…the mystery.

And just because we cannot see, because we cannot describe or articulate something beyond our conscious ability, some would argue this as the evidence that it does not exist. But artists know better.

That is why the artist is just as important as the scientist or the engineer to our cultures and civilization. Because no matter how much we learn, how much we can know, even if one day, everything in the sensory world is explained, there shall always be the ineffable. There shall always be the mystery.

This is what the poet understands and conveys through imagery and metaphor. This is what the painter knows and illustrates through strokes and colors. This what the storyteller learns through the telling of her story which when revealed from the depths, the land of dreams and visions, resonates from soul to soul, revealing a collective consciousness, always there but never experienced.

Art is a tangible through which the heart feels and knows and experiences the mystery. It is all we have and yet it is more than enough. We do not need mystery to be explained or understood. We just need to experience transcendence. We need it as much as we need air and water and food. For without transcendence, there are no breaths, there is no refreshment, there is no nourishment. Without transcendence, there is no ecstasy, no amazement, no wonder, no mystery. No awe.

Celebrate that within you that keeps your eyes open, your heart vulnerable, your imagination free and wild, your belief in magic and mystery active and alive, and that keeps your inner child at play. That is your artist within. That is who you truly are. And that is why you were created.

To create.

The Power of Rituals

February 27, 2014 By Terry Price 1 Comment

I love coaching creatives and being part of their creative journeys.

And the best part of the coaching, so far, has been to see writers smiling and saying they are writing again, creating again. Because, I believe, that is our natural state. We are all creators. That is part of our collective myth. It is at the heart of our individual myths.

Your personal myth is your story, the story of who you really are, the center from which you live, love, and create.

One of the initial reasons people come to work with me is that they are simply not writing, not creating. And they are frustrated. They feel guilt. They are stressed. The clock is ticking and they have nothing to show for their time. Because they are not creating, they doubt their abilities, citing the lack of productivity as clear evidence they are not writers. Some even go so far as refusing to acknowledge they are really writers.

The first step in working with creatives is helping them learn their own story, their own myth. Remove the world’s expectations. Remove the parents’ hopes and dreams. Eliminate the well-intentioned third grade teachers admonitions and directions. Remove checkbooks and mortgages. Quiet the voice without and within. Who are you? Now…who are you, really? And there we begin on a journey to you.

Joseph Campbell says that a ritual is the enactment of a myth. I like that. It is a tangible way of participating in the myth. In the life of a creative, a ritual is a practice you establish to participate in who you are as a creative. In essence, a ritual becomes a entryway to your practice as a creative, regardless of how you express your creativity.

Think of the other areas of your life in which you participate in rituals. Our religious lives are filled with rituals we observe to connect us with the sacred. Think of your family, especially at the holidays, when we gather and do things a certain way, whether knowing where everyone will sit at the table, how we open our presents, stories always read or shared, movies always watched, whatever. These are all rituals that give expression to the myth we live, the myth of our life.

A ritual is sacred in the sense that it leads you to something greater within you. When created according to your own personal myth, a ritual leads you to…well…you. Because at your very essence, your very core, you, my dear friend, are a creative.

A lot of creatives just catch snatches of time here and there, plop down, and expect Faulkner to pour forth in about the same time your barista can whip up a double espresso and you consume it. When you make time for your art and approach it with your rituals, designed to help you participate in your own myth, your own life, the results are different. The critical, doubting voices all creatives hear begin to fade. The world is put back into its proper perspective. Expectations and demands are not allowed. Through our personal ritual, we prepare ourselves, full of wonder and anticipation, to just express. You deserve no less my friend.

Move Toward Your True Self

February 20, 2014 By Dave 2 Comments

Flow by Alayna Palmer Hanneken

“I believe ardently that you should drop everything
and run toward your true self.” – Kyran Pittman

Chances are, most of us are not going to be able to “drop everything,” but that doesn’t mean we have to forget about being our true self as a result.

The important thing is to identify our true self and then to find ways to honor it – to run or walk or move toward it – as often and as fully as we can.

In his book, Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (a pioneer in the scientific study of happiness), writes:

The best moments in our lives are not the passive, receptive, relaxing times . . . The best moments usually occur if a person’s body or mind is stretched to its limits in a voluntary effort to accomplish something difficult and worthwhile.”

Doing something that is both challenging and worthwhile!

Like devoting time to your passion. Like honoring that part of your true self. That doesn’t mean we have to be doing what we love 24/7 in order to be happy or to feel fulfilled (though if we can, that’s awesome). But we do need to devote some time to it.

Unfortunately, many creatives give up the pursuit of their art because it isn’t practical, because they won’t be able to (or may not be able to) support themselves on that alone.

I’m not going to suggest that most of us can just give up our day jobs and run in that direction, like Pittman suggests, but I do believe our cognizance of that limitation often influences just how much we do (and even more often do not) move in that direction.

There are certainly myriad reminders and pressures on us to forget about that direction (sometimes entirely), to stop following what Joseph Campbell called our “bliss” (whether that’s writing, or painting, or running, or whatever we feel called to do).

Most of us, however, give away time each week, if not each day, that we could spend doing that thing we love.

Maybe it’s only fifteen minutes some days, maybe it’s more. But the thing is, once we start making even a little time for that part of ourselves, we tend to find more time available for that very thing. And we also tend to start feeling happier and more fulfilled, as we get into what Csikszentmihalyi calls “Flow” doing that worthwhile activity.

Most of us can walk in the direction of our true selves if we allow ourselves to slow down and to listen, to identify what it is we truly want to do (our calling, so to speak), and if we give ourselves permission to honor that side of ourselves even just a little.

As Zig Ziglar put it, “You seldom, if ever, get lucky sitting down.”

We can’t get to that destination if we don’t actually get up and take the steps. And denying our true selves is often what leads to frustration, resentment, regret, guilt, and feelings of something missing and dissatisfaction.

So if you haven’t gotten started on the path toward your true self, begin by answering these questions:

Who is your true self?

What do you need to do to move in that direction?

If you have started, what do you need to do next in order to keep your momentum going? Giving yourself permission and time to do the thing you love is probably on the list.