Monthly Archives: February 2013
Write the Story You Need to Write
I read a thought-provoking post this morning from Lori-Lyn Hurley titled “You Know the Way” where she explores how we need to discern what is true for us amidst all the well-intentioned advice we get. “You hear one of these truisms often enough and it wears a little groove in your brain. It becomes true for you, when maybe it isn’t,” Hurley writes. “There is no shortage of people ready to give you instruction and advice. For the most part, these people have your very best interest at heart and are sharing information in absolute good faith. Some of that instruction and advice is going to resonate with you. It’s going to be of wonderful assistance. But some of it, you’re going to have to respectfully dismiss. Great teachers, people you love and respect, are sometimes going to tell you things that just aren’t true for you. They’re going to share truths that aren’t your truths.”
Hurley speaks to a spiritual community, but her words are no less true for writers and artists. In fact, they are more relevant than ever. So much of our art world is entrenched in copying what is proven to be financially successful that we risk losing the ability to offer something original. We get caught up in playing it safe. While this may work financially, it’s caustic to creativity. The very nature of creativity is to bring forth what hasn’t emerged yet. We see a wonderful freedom to explore new worlds in the frontier of technology – because it is new and the potential unknown. But there is just as great a potential for originality in the traditional arts as in technology. If we can get out from under the fear and weight of all that has come before us.
If you are in charge of your creative work, you own the process of how you create it. You are the only one, in fact, who can decide what that creative piece will be. There will come a point after you have gathered the sound advice of professionals you trust, when you will need to set aside all of their voices and go back into the work alone. Just you and the work. No one else’s opinions, directions, no consideration of who will approve or disapprove, of what your critics will think. No thought of awards or returns. Just you and the work.
From there, write the story you need to write. The one that trusts you more than any other writer to write it. The one that chose you. Trust yourself more than anyone else to take the risk of delivering something original.
Strip away the illusion that the work must “out-do” everything that’s been done before and go back to a very simple, very still point of being.
A place where there is no audience other than you. Where all it will ever be is what it becomes in your hands.
Where you allow it to be as beautiful and wild and deep as it wants to be.
Hurley says: “Listen to the voice that rises up through the earth and travels through you like light. Listen to the whisper of your very soul. Listen with your ear to the ground. There is a story that belongs to you. There is a song that is yours to sing.”
Sing. Sing as if no one will ever hear you.
And then, they will.
Does Creative Work Need a Purpose to Be Worth It?
A couple of my writer friends and I have ongoing discussions about faith, spirituality, craft and the nature of creative life. We find common ground on our exploration of spirituality, how we approach our work, and the questions, i.e., chiefly – where does creative work come from and does the artist belong to the work or the work to the artist. Sometimes, though, we dig down deeper, especially when we’re struggling and hit the root of purpose. Why are we writers? What’s the point? Why do we pick ourselves (and each other) up after we get knocked down and return to the work, more determined, more decisive, unwilling to stop? What drives us? Or are we the ones being driven? Why do we write?
I became a writer to give people a voice. That’s still my purpose, though inspiring and nurturing the human spirit is equally important to me now. While the roots of writing trace back into my childhood, the need to make a difference goes even further. Writing, to me, has always served a utilitarian purpose. I’ve never been a writer’s writer, never been in love with the so-called glamour of the writing life. Never written just for the sake of writing. I’m not even that good of a writer. What I hope to be, though, is good at communicating to the human spirit.
Because that’s what matters to me. That’s my calling.
But the question, “does creative work need a purpose to be worth it” is an intriguing one. And I’m inclined to say, yes, it does. Why? Because creative work is not for the faint of heart. It’s not for those seeking fame, fortune or ease. (Though success can provide all three, it’s still never about that.) No, creative work is generative work. It’s a delicate balance between seeing into new worlds and leading others into those worlds. And keeping your sanity and your balance in between. It’s heart-work and soul-work and that type of work means that you hold a responsibility toward humanity far beyond what you imagine.
No, it’s not life and death work – at least not to the world at large. But it is often life and death work for the human spirit. Because we deal in spiritual realms. Disagree? Where does your creative work come from? It’s not you. You’re a channel. A conduit. And when you’re most deeply engaged in the creative process, you’re in another realm. You can feel that, right? Time ceases to exist. Energy flows. Something is at work, leading you. And it’s glorious and thrilling and beautiful.
It’s also the easy part.
Then comes the deep work. The re-tilling, the toiling, the weeding, the watering, the praying for sun to shine instead of rain, and rain to fall instead of sun, the covering from frost (no I’m not talking about gardening), the showing to master gardeners who sometimes think it should be like their work and all the work that has come before it, because, well, what to do with something new that doesn’t look familiar…and being present, being present, being present to it and to yourself so neither you nor the work withers away. It’s a form of spiritual wrestling that engages the deepest parts of your being, and forces you to grow stronger or die. You need a solid bedrock of purpose to stay rooted and withstand the spiritual forces of the work. I’m not saying your purpose needs to be altruistic, but I am saying it better be something that means something to you. Because it will take every once of strength, trust and constant decision-making between fear and faith to keep yourself convinced it’s worth it.
Very few are called to be creators. Most people are consumers, critiques and fosterers of status quo. They embrace new creations when they are handed to them conveniently and have no idea of the amount of spiritual and psychic energy that went forth into the creating of it. (Something we should be mindful of as technology hands us new gadgets, right? People make those.) It all comes from within. And to stand up to the challenges of being that channel requires that we are utterly convicted of our purpose and that our purpose matters.
How do you find your purpose?
You look within. You ponder what matters to you. What disturbs you. What you want to see more of in the world. (Always fight for something, not against.) You pray to your spirit and you listen for answers. And you remember that purpose doesn’t have to be an “answer.” It can be a “question.”
Bullying in Art, Is There Room for Grace?
Someone whose spirit I deeply respect is going through a rough time. His artistic work has long been exceptional, but he doubts its value. For many reasons, one of which is that his powerful work eclipses the light of his tender spirit. He’s under pressure from all sides, but most intensely from himself. His heart has been broken time and again; each time the scars gnarl thicker. He wonders if anyone can actually see him anymore – or if they ever did. And worse, isn’t sure if he even exists. He’s judged for his work, but mostly for who he’s not. No matter how loud he speaks, it seems no one can hear him. Despite all of this, he persists. With a courage that few would find within themselves. Rising again, fighting on, refusing to be diminished.
Yet, it’s heartbreaking to know that this struggle is not caused by his work, but by cruel bullying at the adult level. And a society that accepts it. Artists have long been subject to rejection and misunderstanding. But this is not a matter of artistic work being rejected or disliked. That is inherent in art, as art is an expression of human spirit and as such, appeals to some and not to others. That’s as it should be. No, this is a matter of bullying and the damage it does to the spirit. Frankly, we should all put an end to practices that breed bullying. We have the power to stop it by changing the focus of our attention. The rallying call for that, however, is another article.
What I’m interested in here is the one being bullied. Rejection of one’s work is enough to cause pain. But when your spirit is subject to unfounded, continual misunderstanding and people refuse to let you define who you are, how do you find your way out of that?
Is there grace?
What is needed is the healing embrace of acceptance, to be seen and known and loved for who you truly are. But it’s more than that. Grace in this type of pain comes when you remember who you are in Spirit, in the inherent value of your presence on earth. When you reclaim your power to decide who you are.
What if you can’t remember who you are? What if the voices have been so loud for so long that deciphering where you begin and they end is nearly impossible? What if you have been fighting for your spirit’s survival for so long, you no longer know how to let others in to bless you?
The essence of bullying and rejection is that it breaks the spirit down, and breaks it open – and those places either die a little or spark new growth. No one is immune to it. The process makes you vulnerable, uncertain, doubtful, reclusive. You pull away, try to bury pain, don’t let others see just how deeply you’re affected – create an illusion of equilibrium. Old souls can see beneath that surface. Most others will take you at your word.
The one bullied often ends up trying to hide to avoid more pain, but being unseen is actually part of the root of the pain. It turns into a vicious cycle. And if you can’t evade the bullies, you end up with the constant dread of confrontation. Anger. Frustration. Pain. Stared at and invisible.
So what can you do? Remind yourself of the grace that exists for you. Remember that you are made of the same stuff as the stars, that you made the stars. That no amount of lies can create the truth.
It takes courage. It takes courage to trust your own opinion more than others. It takes courage to stand up for yourself, to yourself, to the voices that would have you believe the lies.
And it takes courage to let others around you see you. To trust their ability to see beyond the falsities. To allow others the grace to bless you.
Because the grace you seek in the face of pain is not the faith of others, but faith in yourself.
creative inside out 