Mindsets and Leaky Boats

 

One of the easiest ways to close the doors of ones Creativity Closet is to form a mindset that doesn’t allow for new possibilities. A mindset is a habit of thought. Just as we have physical habits that make us feel comfortable in a lot of the areas of our existence, we also have thought habits, ideas that keep us from any forward movement. We engage in them when we don’t want to rock the boat in which we are sitting.

If we think that boat is leaky, we certainly won’t take it far from the shore where it is anchored. It is our mindset that keeps it anchored. Keeps us feeling ‘comfortable’ and actually allows us to think we still retain some form of movement, even though we might actually be slowly sinking, unaware of the danger to our further existence.

A year ago, my circumstances changed. It didn’t appear to be a huge or elaborate change, although it did somewhat ease some of my immediate concerns. At least, that was the way in which I viewed the change, that it allowed me to relax a bit more. But, only a bit. I forgot that any change, even minor ones, cause a ripple affect. I stepped carefully into this slightly wider space and got comfortable again.

In other words, I went about my business as usual, aware of the added space, but not seeing it for what it really was: an opportunity for far greater changes. I was well anchored into a mindset that meant accepting limitations. It had become my way of life. And I had gotten quite comfortable with it. So much so, that I almost missed the boat that came with those changes. The boat that would and could make those limitations a thing of the past, and me free of the chafing at those boundaries.

I have written about the Push and Pull necessary to bring about movement and thus, change. That Push/Pull came to me in the form of words spoken by two very different individuals. One set of words was an extremely negative push from behind, while the other set of words were absolutely positive with possibilities I hadn’t even considered. Together, they created enough friction to get me moving. Movement that took me completely outside of that mindset I had been inhabiting, and the leaky boat I was still clinging to.

And I can be, and am, grateful for both. The deep anger that resulted from the negative Push, fueled the movement that Pulled me into all those positive possibilities and a solution that eclipsed most of those limitations. Actually put me on a new plane of existence with the eagerness to explore this much bigger and better boat. And no, that doesn’t mean I’m looking at happily ever after. However, I am seeing a whole new set of ripples that extend much farther than they did just a month ago.

By the way, this new, bigger, sturdier boat does have some leaks. Life is life, and continues to hold many surprises. I have been able to find creative solutions to the leaks I have encountered so far, and keeping my Creativity Closet open and functional, will allow me to find even more. Bending myself around the changes hasn’t been easy, but so far, it has certainly been entertaining.

Changing a mindset is work. Simply realizing that I can now do those small things I couldn’t do before makes it far more interesting and even joyful. Those little shocks of awareness are part and parcel of the change. And I am finding that it is the smallest of these things that seem to bring me the most joy.

Knowing that I can go and get myself an ice cream cone, if that is what I want, is absolutely delightful in a way that it might be hard to explain. The funny part is that I don’t need to get the cone, just think about the fact that I can, and I know a sense of satisfaction I haven’t known in years. It is those small bursts of delight that mark this new path I am on, and also help to unravel that old mindset, making it a thing of the past.

Opening the doors of my Creativity Closet created new paths for me to explore and examine. But it also opened new paths for my thoughts to explore that had little, or nothing, to do with what my hands were physically engaged in creating. That in turn, had me facing off with that old mindset, and I found myself saying quietly, “But, I can’t go there.” Only slowly realizing that not only could I go there, there were ways and means of accomplishing that, that simply would not have occurred otherwise.

Do you have a mindset? A habit of thought that keeps you from moving forward, or beyond the place you might be stuck inside of? Are you sinking in that algae infested pond in which you are anchored for no other reason than that is the only place you know how to be? What one small step might you take to begin to erase that no longer helpful mindset with one that holds other possibilities? Remember, if you can imagine it, it is very possible you can do it, create it, make it feasible, changing your reality.

Creativity Closet: The Why of It

 

Why create a Creativity Closet? Especially if one doesn’t believe that one is particularly creative? Imagination exists for lots of reasons, but it is the key element in growth and the forward movement known as progress. If we can imagine a thing, we can often find a way to create or do that thing.

Many of us resist the idea of our own creativity for numerous reasons. The first one might be the fear of failure, or of appearing foolish or untalented. We live in a world that is far more interested in product than process. What is the point of creating something that no one will use, or maybe even want? The process is often work and takes time as well as energy. The thought that others might not see value in our product can stop us cold from even beginning.

The process is a learning experience, and as such has far more value than any product produced. Fear of making a mistake, doing it wrong, can block not only the process but whatever might be learned within its boundaries. I am not just speaking here of learning how to make something, although that is one of the ultimate goals of the activity. There are life lessons to be learned and sometimes those lessons can’t be obtained in any other manner.

Very often, the creative process entails a repetitive action, something that has to be done again and again and simply takes time. That repetitive action, whether it is polishing, gluing, cutting, or whatever, allows the mind to roam free while the hands are otherwise occupied. It often becomes a form of active meditation and, it is during those periods when the subconscious can come forward and make connections.

I color with markers and artists pens. But, it is while I’m engaged in coloring that I have been able to piece together new perspectives concerning my personal life and experiences. The colors I choose often bring certain subjects to the fore and I am free to roam through those thoughts and feelings while thus engaged.

I obviously engage in journal writing on a daily basis. But there are times when I set out to write just to see where the words will take me. Writing is a creative process and as such employs that repetitive pattern that frees up my thought processes, often allowing me to find answers I didn’t even realize I was seeking.

I have written here about another new activity: doodling. Constructing an image one stroke at a time. Making lines and then connecting them in unusual ways to simply see where they will end up. It is both relaxing and quite satisfying, but also provides space for the connecting of thoughts and feelings that might not otherwise happen. Zentangles are fun, and no, they do not all turn out beautifully, but that isn’t the purpose behind doing them. They are actually meant to encourage creative flow and they do just that.

The most important reason for creating a Creativity Closet is to open the door to new possibilities. Letting ones imagination have free rein can offer new experiences and the material that dreams are made of. Far too many of us walk around angry and frustrated, wondering if this is all there is and why that is so. Never knowing that we ourselves might be the only thing blocking new experiences and adventures. If we think of ourselves as chained, held captive by our circumstances, that is exactly what we are. And no one can change that except us.

If that is our bottom line, others can make suggestions until they are blue in the face, and we will immediately find reasons (excuses) as to why those suggestions are impossible to fulfill, or follow through on. So it is up to us to open those doors that lead to our own personal freedom. It may take time and only occur in small little steps, but each step will take us farther and closer to that place we ultimately want to be.

A few months ago, I realized that I had very little mobility and it was utterly frustrating to know that. I began to think in terms of how I could change that reality. I started out thinking in terms of a scooter that would allow me to at least reach the stores and restuarants that are within close proximity.

Within a few hours, I will be registering the first car I have owned in five years, because my circumstances have changed. But, and this is important, those changes hadn’t really taken place in the mindset I had held before they occurred. That sounds like a tremendous leap in reality. It wasn’t. It occurred one step at a time while I was coloring, writing, and doodling.

The writing I do may never be more than my blogs, and may never be read by more than the few individuals who accidentally find this site. The images I create in color and with doodling may never find value in the eyes of others, but they have certainly produced far more than I could have dreamed before now. I now have the mobility I yearned for and lots of plans on how to use it. I no longer feel just this side of caged, nor am I dependent on the whims and schedules of those around me.

I am free to go where I want, when I want. What’s more, I am free to engage in other creative activities I, not that long ago, thought were utterly hopeless to even consider. My doodling and coloring had purpose and drive, a function I hadn’t considered possible. I thought I was just keeping myself busy so I wouldn’t explode because I felt so trapped. My Creativity Closet has become a priceless commodity, a treasure trove of ongoing possibilities.

It has changed my life and my awareness in ways that nothing else could. That is the why of it, its purpose and function. Have you opened that door to all of you possibilities?

Creativity Closet

 

When I was teaching, I would often ask my students to breathe deeply, then close their eyes and visualize their personal Creativity Closet. The visualization came about because of something that had occurred to me spontaneously, one afternoon while I was alone. I found myself, in my imagination, standing at an open closet door. When I entered the closet, I discovered there was a backdoor and upon opening it found a world of wonderful color and a variety of objects. This imaginary closet didn’t seem to have parameters, it went on forever. An endless space, with room after room to explore and discover.

The first time I did the visualization with a group, one man in the audience said that he couldn’t see anything when he closed his eyes, it was all darkness. I told him this was in his imagination and that there, he could reach out his hand, find a light switch and flick it on. He did so and was inordianately pleased with what happened when he turned on the light.

The response to this little exercise was always varied and full of surprising experiences. One woman said she could not get past the doorway because there was no floor to her closet. We discussed the fear of falling and failure. Another gentleman saw himself enter the room and promptly sit down and fall asleep. We talked about denial and our personal responsibility to see that we stayed on our journey, alert to what life was offering to us. Most people were amazed at the diversity of objects and activities they found inside that imaginary closet. We would discuss the world of possibilities and what to do with all of that.

I always had them write down as much of their experience as they could remember immediately following the exercise. Most people were stunned at the size of the space they discovered within themselves. Only a very few found cramped dark places. When they did, I would encourage them to use their imaginations to push back the walls, creating a space that was comfortable, but still felt safe and secure.

What I found fascinating was the endless variety of what they wrote and listed after doing the exercise. And each one was uniquely individual, tailored to the person who created it. Some found animals or birds, others found a room filled with hats, or coats, scarves of variegated colors, or desks with writing and drawing tools ready to be used. One woman found several different types of sewing machines and an endless supply of fabric in textures and contrasting colors and laughed delightedly when she could see herself spending time in such a space. Some found open space, no walls, but somehow protected from bad weather.

The eagerness to explore this inner space was highly contagious and just plain fun to participate in. After exploring and writing about it, we would always discuss staying open and going back to that writing as often as possible. Those feelings remain attached to the words and are not difficult or hard to recapture. And I was quick to point out that the exercise was one that could be repeated at will. Things, conditions, realities change and that would change perspectives and perceptions, but also give rise to even more possibilities.

I am personally, still exploring my own creativity closet. And even though I have been doing so for many years, there is always something new to be found and worked with. Writing them down, not only anchors them into memory, but also often suggests even more connections and activities. Which, of course, also need to be noted.

Another activity, which I used to encourage further exploration, was a collage of that inner space. Finding images, even objects to put together as a whole image. On more than one occasion, students would come back and tell stories of how they actually found, or encountered, those very real things and activities within a short space of doing the collage.

One gentleman actually started gluing images on the inside of a physical closet door. I thought it was fantastic and when I was allowed to see it, he had already glued images on over half of that threshold. It was beautiful and he spoke of when the door was completely covered, how he intended to move on to the walls and maybe even the ceiling. By the way, this was the same man who found only darkness when he closed his eyes.

Having repeatedly written about how creative energy is also healing energy, his very real closet door was a constant source of encouragement to my own person. The awareness of just what openness can accomplish when allowed. After he showed it to me, we discussed the C.S. Lewis story about The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. How each of us had read the story many years before and how it related to the ease of imaging our own Creativity Closet with all of its contents.

Here, I am constantly trying to emphasize how a journal can be many things, but most importantly it is a source for discovering ones own creative possibilities. In a very real sense, it is another kind of physical Creativity Closet. All one needs to do is open the door and walk through it.

Expectations and Rose-Colored Realities

 

I watched David Cook on American Idol last night. My journal, this morning, is filled with my personal reactions to doing so. Not sure exactly what my expectations were in the moment, but I was once again, mesmerized, feeling a bit foolish, yet eager to see and have my senses satisfied. They were and they were not.

That’s the problem with expectations. They are so wide open, so hopeful with a cloud of possibilities that seemingly go on into an unknowable future. But, also laced with at least a fifty percent chance of failure, often more. Yet, we go on creating them, fantasizing over those possibilities and sometimes investing ourselves emotionally, and otherwise, into what is essentially a long shot at best.

When they, as they most often do, fail to materialize, we spiral downward into disappointment, sometimes depression. Think ourselves foolish or worse, for placing our emotional well-being in what is essentially nothing more than a dream, a rose-colored reality where all things wished and wanted suddenly come true.

Is that an accurate assessment? Yes. And, no. Hope is a necessity. Without it, we simply become lumps of energy forever stuck in a gray world that lacks all color. We move, but our movement lacks meaning because it doesn’t have a goal or a purpose. We trudge through our gray world, never looking up, unable to see whatever might be in front of us. What is always in front of us, are other possibilities.

That may be what is wrong with expectations. They are a narrow path, leading only to what we want, not necessarily to what we need. And because the want is so deep and strong, we fool ourselves into thinking it is a need, the only one. That one, that if it is fulfilled will make the rest of our sojourn not just palatable, but filled with contentment and enough excitement to last forever. That is a fantasy. Life doesn’t work that way on a moment to moment basis.

Life is a balancing act of ups and downs, joys and pains, laughter and sadness, and all the other opposites one can think of. It doesn’t run smoothly for more than a short time, no matter how much we may want it to do so. And because expectations are, for the most part, very narrow paths, when we get caught up in them, we fail to prepare for those other eventualities.

A lot of expectations center around other people. Other people doing what we want them to do. In the process, we forget that each individual has choices, a life of their own, people and things to be accounted for and to. As I wrote in my journal this morning, I realized that I simply wanted more time to watch David Cook. I want to sit down and talk to him, ask him questions about his journey, hear the small details of how that journey has changed and altered him.

I will never meet David Cook. If I did, I’d blow it and become completely tongue-tied and probably just stare at him with my mouth hanging open. Not a pretty image. He’d walk away, disgusted at this waste of his time, and probably thinking something quite derogatory about old women who have too much time on their hands. Would his assessment be accurate? Yes and no, perhaps.

Yes, I am an old woman and one that is fascinated by this man’s journey because it has impacted on my own. If you want to know how that came to be, you will have to go back to the beginnings of this blog. For right now, we are discussing expectations. And some of mine were fulfilled last evening. I wanted to know if I still experienced a connection with his person and his music. I did and do.

The song that he sang, Come Back To Me, has a big piece of my own story inside of it. I’d not heard it before and was surprised to find soft tears falling as he sang it. When members of the audience screamed out that they loved him, and he immediately responded with, “I love you, too!”, I laughed because that was a 100% David Cook response. So, yes, I am still connected to the man and his music. And no, he has no idea and never will. That’s the way it should be.

Which brings us to realistic expectations. One of the reasons I have them is because I keep a journal. It is always amazing to me, how easy it is to see the fantasy versuss the reality when one actually writes the words down in black and white. Those rose-colored images actually have clouds of pink mist floating around and through them. Makes it so much easier to see.

The reality may be far more mundane, but it is also easier to accept than getting lost in all that mist and coughing at its fumy presence. Which, by the way, is probably what I would do if I ever came face to face with David Cook, have a coughing fit, or faint, something I have never done in my life. Which, as far as I am concerned, simply means that David Cook is an extremely lucky man for being totally oblivious to my existence.

So, where does that leave me with all of my expectations. Surprisingly satisfied. Disappointed that he was only on for less than ten minutes, but happily aware that his journey continues with a platinum record under his arm. Happy to realize that my journey will also continue and that, on occasion, I may sit down in front of my TV and catch a glimpse of the only connection I have with him. That is reality as it should be, and I am more than happy to allow it to remain so.

Those rose-colored clouds leave a residue of dust behind that simply mean more dusting and cleaning to be done. I am so not into that.

Picking Up The Pace

 

My journal does a lot of things for me. It makes me aware of where I have been, what I have done, teaches me about myself and my life. Helps me to keep track of my friends and my feelings at moments. This morning, it helped me remember all of those things, especially what day it is.

Have you ever done that? Awakened and become aware that you are not quite sure what day of the week you are operating in? I did that this morning, sort of stumbling through my usual routine, but kind of confused because thoughts about what was supposed to be going on today were blending into tomorrow and yesterday. I finally stopped when I got to my journal page because I realized I just couldn’t think of exactly where I was.

So, I read through yesterday’s page. No wonder I was confused. A great deal has been happening. Lots of changes and alterations looming on the horizon. People, both friends and family, with life altering health issues, a huge possible move for one with daily implications of change for me personally. And a small incident that happened in my home, that I wasn’t even aware of until last night. Nothing major, just a bit stunned that I missed it completely.

Spring is definitely shaking the moth balls out of her green skirt. And I don’t think I’m quite ready for her arrival. I had gotten nicely comfortable with my quiet slow-paced winter days and evenings. Now, it seems, suddenly that is all at an end. And here I am, just wanting to sit down and relax for a few minutes. Nothing to do but pick up the pace and hope it all happens as smoothly as possible.

It’s funny. I write this blog about keeping a journal because it is what I know about, have taught, and really believe it is genuinely important for all kinds of reasons. Then suddenly get slapped in the face with the reality of just how important it can be and is to me, personally. I really don’t want to miss a day because of confusion or any other reason. I only have so many of them and that makes each one important.

My Mother is ninety years old. She does really well, but is also slipping a bit and its becoming apparent to all of us. She doesn’t always remember things, people, or aspects of her own history. She needs more of our attention and we have figured out a way to accomplish that without limiting her sense of independence and freedom. She is also a very proud lady and we take pride in all of that.

At the same time, that all reminds me of my own age and thoughts about my own future. I take pride in the same things my mother does. And although I have been keeping a journal for many many years, I am far more aware of its importance now, then ever before. A very long time ago, I read that one of the major issues about aging is keeping the mental faculties alert. I decided that keeping a journal would be, for me, a cornerstone in my own process of preparing for that reality. I am so glad that I did.

The few minutes I spent reading yesterday’s journal page, put me back on track and even helped me decide what I need to get done today. I could have just kept stumbling through, hoping that at some point, I’d make it around the corner and it would all fall in place again. It’s scary to think there might come a day when it doesn’t. There are very good reasons why people fear old age, and that is one of the biggest of them.

At the moment, I am old, but not yet elderly. Personally, I intend to push those limits for as long as possible. Which means I will continue to challenge myself and my mental faculties wherever possible. I did that yesterday, as a matter of fact. I invited Diddums to send me some of her art to use as inspiration on my poetry site. She graciously and promptly agreed. You can find the results at:

http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/

and you can find Diddums at:

http://diddums.wordpress.com/

My journal is looking somewhat like an anchor in all of that, at this moment. Perhaps, more a key. Yup, I like that definition better. An anchor is meant to limit movement, or to at least slow it down. A key holds the promise of further possibilities. The same sort of possibilities held in those green skirts that Spring is shaking loose. I might have thought, even wished, that she would hold off for a while, but I certainly can’t hold her back from doing and being exactly what she is: an invitation to new beginnings.

So, take a deep breath, pick up the pace, and whatever you do, don’t forget that key.

Stain Removal

 

Remember being dressed up in a new outfit, new shoes, cleaned and sparkling from head to toe, with Mom’s smiling approval? On the way to some social event, if only at Grandma’s house for holiday festivities? Then within the first hour disaster strikes and somehow you have to spend the rest of the day looking at some horrible stain on snow white shirt, fancy pants, or new dress? Worse part is, it wasn’t actually your fault, but Mom’s smile has turned to a frown of disapproval or disappointment, each and every time she looks over at you.

Those looks haunt you, even years later, because they are a moment when you knew you didn’t have that approval that made you feel secure, safe in a world that was, for the most part, quite overwhelming at times. It would be great if there was some sort of All Purpose stain remover that could be applied to the memory, remove the stain, and let life go on without it.

A few days ago I wrote, in a poem (Only Lightly Grasped),  about the stain of sin on a precious white soul, that the nuns of my childhood told us about. They knew their stuff. Knew of that almost universal experience and its consequences and affects on young and impressionable children. Knew it and used it to create an image that is quite haunting and somewhat daunting to deal with.

In the poem, I compared that stain, that image, with writing words on white paper. But, the writing is a stain remover, one that actually works. Being a child means making mistakes both large and small. Making mistakes is simply an inherent part of the process of learning and growing. Yes, it can be avoided on occasion, but never completely. And those mistakes leave a stain on the soul and in the memory. Not just stains, but sometimes scars on that developing psyche.

The word sin actually means, missing the mark, ie. mis-take. It does not mean evil, wicked, or hell-bound for a surety. Those definitions came later, and depend on the particular view of the speaker using the word. It simply means missing the mark, and because it does, it also means that one might do better to change ones trajectory so that it doesn’t happen again. Which means there is always hope that with practice, little or much depending on circumstances, one may eventually hit the mark and move on to other things.

Yes, I know there are Big and Little sins, but regardless of the adjective placed before it, the sin still means the target has been missed and its best to try again, or walk away and not even make the attempt. That also depends on the individual and is therefore, a matter of personal choice.

It took me years to discover this small bit of reality, the meaning of the word made a world of difference to my sense of self, as well as the past I carried with me no matter where I went, or what I was engaged in at any given moment. With that discovery came the realization that if sin was a mistake, a missing of the mark, then I could possibly find a few ways to undo what was irritating and disappointing in my past, and maybe even put that smile back on my Mother’s face. Wow, that was a freeing moment of enlightenment.

Simply put, it meant I could actually go back and correct the trajectory, change my aim, and remove some of those stains the nuns spoke about. For a while, if I’m to be honest, it meant I could thumb my nose at those black clad women who sometimes haunted my dreams even into adulthood. Eventually, however, I had to admit and acknowledge that the image they used, was also a key into redefining my life experience. Which meant that I could actually thank them profusely for supplying it. Hell of a turn around, that was.

So, how does this all work? We do remember every moment of our existence. Each one is stored somewhere inside of us. Some of those memories have the power to make us wince, feel shame or embarrassment, even years after the experience. They can prevent us from moving freely through our lives. Tie us up in knots that don’t allow any form of forward progress.

The first step, always the most difficult, is to take them out from that dark space inside our person. Bring them out into the light of today, rather than leaving them in the shadows of yesterday. Hang them on a clothesline and let the fresh air get all that musty smell off of them. We do that by writing them down on a piece of paper. Yes, making another stain, this one with focus and deliberate purpose. This is the stain of new beginnings, new avenues to explore, new images to record and to learn from. This is the stain of hope. Hope of change, perhaps of renewal and even rebirth, new uses, and purposes and possibilities.

None of that will happen if we just walk away and leave them. That old stain will always remain, and with it, the discomfort of emotions that attend all such things. And there is also the fear of what such exposure can bring. It is the inherent value of a personal journal that allows that risk. But also allows the fresh air and sunlight such an airing provides. That reduces the risk to time and energy spent. Not a bad price for stain removal and possible renewal in the bargain.

Do you have a new outfit for the holidays? Something really special that might even make your Mom’s eyes sparkle with approval and regard? Wear it with confidence, let it inform you that all things are possible if you want them enough. But also remember, if some clown comes along and dumps his dinner plate in your lap, you can go home, and remove the stain, begin the process that could allow you to be a new person in the coming New Year. Trust yourself and the stain remover, it works. Happy Holidays to one and all.

One Moment

11/5/08

We have a new president today, Barack Obama. Each of us has partaken in a distinct moment of history in this past twenty-four hours. We, all together, have opened a new door of possibilities, not just for ourselves, but for each other. We have finally shown ourselves to be what we have always said we were: a melting pot of diverse cultures, ethnicity, where all are welcome and given a chance to live differently and with freedom. We have finally been awakened to the reality of possibilities and the changes such an attitude may bring. We might want to take a moment and mark this one down. Let ourselves think about what this momentous experience means to our own personal attitudes, beliefs, and everyday experience.

Are we up the challenge? Can we be open enough, within our own minds and hearts, to greet this moment as a good place to begin living in a new manner? One that is freer, than any before it, in a nation that is firmly imbedded in the concept of freedom, or at least states repeatedly that it is. Not long ago, we all together, honored the loss of innocence we, as a nation, underwent on 9/11. Now, we have collectively chosen to take a new step toward replenishing and refilling that gap of ignorance such innocence reveals. We can’t go back and undo that other experience, no matter how much we may desire such a thing. All we can do is learn from that past experience. This is our opportunity.

Will we grasp this opportunity to prove that we are no longer ignorant, therefore vulnerable? Take it for the opportunity it is, to learn the lessons we need to grow away from even more ignorance, toward a future strength that is not based in right through physical might, but one that has been tempered in the crucible and pain of that loss? A strength born out of healing, rather than retaliating in bitterness and further anger? Will we, each one of us, take the time, this one moment, to examine one small thing we can do, today, to show that we will move forward, take this momentous opportunity to become one degree more of what we say we are, and less than what we have shown ourselves to be?

With these words, I have proclaimed that I, as one individual, intend to stand up, to take this moment to risk being visibly counted as one who truly believes, that together, we can be better than we have ever been. Will you?