Category Archives: Inspiration
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.”
Get Clear on Your Vision
Art is a funny thing, writing, too – in that the process depends so much on our beliefs about ourselves. Other work is pretty straightforward (most of the time).
But in art, we revise, we seek critique, we revise again. We leave the work open to multiple voices, insights, guidance. Some necessary. Some not. And in the process of wanting to make it better, we risk losing what the art wanted to be in the first place. As First Trustees of our artistic work, it’s our job to translate that original vision from concept given to us to what appears on the page or canvas. And to do that successfully, we have to return again and again to the Vision.
What does the work want to be? Why does it want to exist? What is its purpose? What do you want it to do?
The answers to those become your measuring stick. A powerful tool to gauge whether or not suggested changes are right for your work.
Another equally powerful question to ask is: of all the artists and writers in the world, why did the work choose you?
You are the only one who can bring yourself to the work. And without you, the work would not be your version of it. There’s a reason that you are the one chosen to do the work. And that can be hard to hold onto, but oh, so necessary.
What much of this comes down to is faith.
Faith in your calling. Faith in yourself. Faith in the work.
And courage. We hear that word throughout our lives; seldom run into real opportunities to use it.
Courage is acting in spite of fear. For artists and writers, it’s owning our authority over our work. Being willing to trust our decisions. And being willing to be different.
So hold on to your vision and your calling. Get clear on the vision and move from there.
If You’re Not Having Fun, What’s the Point?
Good question, isn’t it?
We writers and artists can get so focused on our creative goals, making money and working to manifest big dreams that we forget: art isn’t life and death.
We’re supposed to be enjoying this. And if we’re not, then we need to change how we relate to our work.
A writer known as Marco Dante (@marcodante) wrote honestly in a blog post about the frustration we’ve all felt when trying to put our work out into a marketplace fraught with subjective opinions, the changing whims of consumer trends and the heart-wrenching personal nature of rejection, hope, determination, and self-doubt.
Whether or not we generate our income from our creative lives, it does our souls good to step back and ask: am I enjoying this? (By joy, I mean an overall happiness that comes from the entirety of the process. Because we all have tedious parts of the process we don’t enjoy, but must complete.) If we’re not enjoying our creative work, what can we do to get that joy back? What needs to change?
It’s usually a matter of mentally re-framing our perspective. That, and taking a good look around us to remember what truly matters in our lives. Health, family, love, freedom, well-being, abundance, the very fact that we get to spend so much time on our creative pursuits. And, ultimately, the fact that as Beings of Source, we’re here to enjoy life and bless others as we do so.
It may be a change in the type of work we do, the medium, the genre, the outcomes we experience. We may need a different type of art to reinvigorate us or provide new challenges.
So, if you’re not having fun, find out why and decide to change what needs changing. Let go of the weight that has accumulated on you and start fresh.
And if your art just isn’t for you anymore, take a break or quit. This is your life, your story. You get to write it.
Weighing Opinions on Your Creative Work
Opinions. We each have one. We each think we’re right.
And that’s the beauty of our human race. The fact that we each have a unique and personal reaction to the world around us. A response that allows us to accept or reject, to decide how we prefer life and the multitude of experiences available.
But opinion in art is another thing. And who you listen to as you seek feedback on your work is something you should stop and ponder. What is difficult about getting feedback is that every person responds based on their unique preferences. To the artist, the work feels personal. It is personal because it comes through you.
So who do you listen to?
People you trust who have experience and expertise in your craft.
There’s a big difference between someone “liking” your work and someone who has the insight to know if its elements are fully developed.
There’s a big difference between someone “not liking” your work and telling you what needs to be changed to improve the quality of it.
The danger is in allowing too many voices to influence you.
The challenge is in learning how to trust your own opinion most.
Think of a film – any film you’ve seen. You either like it or you don’t. You have reasons for why you feel the way you do. But those reasons may have nothing to do with the quality of the film itself – the story, the acting, the directing – you may simply like or not like the film because it doesn’t resonate with you. It’s not your thing.
Allowing people who are not qualified to give suggestions on your work the authority to do so, is like you not liking that film and having the director change it because of your opinion. (Now if you’re in a position to do that, wonderful. But most of us are not.)
So work needs to be protected while it’s being developed. And feedback needs to be sought from a few trusted sources who can inspire you, who understand what your vision is and who can suggest actions that will strengthen the work for what it is intended to be and not just make it something that appeals to their tastes.
As artists, we need to understand that when our work is made visible there are going to be people who won’t like it, it won’t fit their tastes or interest them. They will judge it as bad, poorly done, not get it or simply dismiss it – regardless of the actual quality. They simply won’t like it or you.
That sounds logical. But stop and really think about it. We’re wired to seek approval. We’re wired to desire that other people like us and everything about us. We squirm when people don’t. It hurts. No matter how much we tell ourselves not to let it. It hurts.
So going out into the world with our work is something we need to prepare ourselves for – and not just once, but every time we make ourselves visible. We need to know and realize that people are responding to their preferences about our work (and us). Even in industry awards, judgment is subjective and biased. There is no “God” who can tell you once and for all that your work is what you want it to be.
Public opinion has nothing to do with the work itself (or you).
Read that line again.
Now, it’s true that we must untie our ego from the work. Because it’s not about us; it’s all about the work. It’s about our performance. Not our souls.
We are curators, trustees, channelers – the work flows through us, but it is not us and we are not it. We are entrusted with bringing it forth and presenting it to the world. Just as children we’ve nurtured and equipped to go out into the world and make a life for themselves – the work is not responsible for ensuring that its parents have a life of their own. Our work is not responsible for our emotional well-being. It simply is what it is.
So, as you seek feedback on your work, ponder these things.
As you put your work out there, ponder these things.
And know that ultimately, to the degree of control you have over your work, you are the only one who can decide if the work is what it is meant to be. And that takes courage. The mark of a professional is the willingness to change the work if it truly serves the work, and the ability to discern when it doesn’t.
Because there will always be a different way the work could be done, the story told, the song sung, the painting painted, the performance given.
So choose carefully. And take ownership of your work.
And take these wise words from a man who lives them, as your mantra:
“Always be resolute in the things that touch your heart. Defend them, promote them, nurture them. Love takes courage.”
Abundance or Scarcity: Is the Choice Yours?
The bottom line is this: It’s All Story. Abundance is a Story. Scarcity is a Story. Yes, there are facts supporting both of them, but remember it isn’t the facts that shape our lives—it’s our Stories.
– Victoria Castle, The Scarcity Trance
How will you change your Story in 2013?
Happy New Year!!
creative inside out 