Weaving The Dream

I belong to a group of five women writers who check in with each other once a week by email.  The check in provides a way to mark our progress on our journey to writing success – however each of us defines that.

Last week, one of the writers checked in and apologized for not accomplishing “more working writer stuff” after a holiday week that included a sick husband, sick child, and a baby only a few months old.  Not to mention the job she has…

While she was juggling all that, she also managed to make a visit to the yarn shop to supply one of her creative passions—knitting.  And, she looked at notes about her protagonist’s job choice.  And she thought about what her own ideal work situation might look like.  Whew!  Just reading that makes me tired.

I guess the only thing that qualifies as “working writer stuff” is actual pages written on paper or screen.  No written pages, ergo an unproductive writing week.

She is not the only one to apologize for unwritten pages.  The rest of us have apologized for the same thing because of work schedules, fatigue, depression, and just the general insanity of living.

I think it is funny, actually, that with her months-old baby in her arms she doesn’t realize that what she just went through is a perfect metaphor for this creative conundrum.

That baby of hers?  Well, before she held that “product” in her arms, she went through nine months of watching what she ate and taking vitamins to nurture what couldn’t be seen, especially those first three or four months.  After all, other than morning sickness, fatigue, and an occasional flutter, what did she have to show for all the eating and vitamins, exercise and sleeping she did those first few months?  Nothing.  For all she knew, she could have just been putting on weight.

And those last three months? Oh sure, she was definitely growing something, although by the last month she was probably convinced it was never going to show up.  And she probably got tired of people asking her, with a nervous eye on her now monstrous belly, when she was due (almost as bad as being asked if we have finished our manuscript—yet).

Many pregnant women in the ninth month wonder if we will ever have anything to show for all our months of conscious eating, exercise, and increased discomfort, yet do we called ourselves unproductive?  No way!  Fat, maybe.  Frustrated by the wait, yes.  Unproductive, no.

What we all forget and need to remember from time to time is that much of the creative process and therefore creative productivity is unseen.  Much of what nurtures and feeds into the final product— reading, listening to music, baking cookies, talking with a friend, hugging your child, having a good cry, falling into deep sleep—may look like it is accomplishing nothing, like it is falling into some black hole, making us feel unproductive. 

Yet, as long as we don’t allow those things to become distractions or excuses (a very fine line there sometimes, I admit) then we need to value them as the kind of productivity that can’t always be measured within a day or week or month.  By acknowledging the new experiences that provide new perspectives, the conversations that raise new questions, the imaginings and quiet, staring-into-space times as the nutrition and nurturing necessary for giving birth to our creative projects, we honor the process as well as the product.

Honor your unseen productivity

Okay, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and, since the origin of the holiday is our ancestors giving thanks centuries ago, numerous articles online and in print the last few weeks tout the importance and benefits of being grateful.

So, since everyone else is reminding you to be grateful, and some are sharing with you what they are grateful for, I won’t.  I know—you’re grateful, aren’t you!

Instead I want to stress the importance of accepting gratitude or receiving thanks.

I don’t know where we got into the habit of brushing off thanks, of discounting appreciation, of pooh-poohing gratitude but it seems that we are as bad at receiving thanks as we are at receiving compliments.  Maybe our parents were worried we would get a big head or something if we received too much gratitude.  Or maybe our therapists were concerned that we would only do good things in order to receive gratitude.  (And I have to wonder, how bad would that be? Think about how much nicer the world might be if we all got off on doing good things just to hear someone say thank you to us!)

How good did you feel the last time you gave someone a gift and received their thanks in the form of a hug, a kiss, a thank you or, one of the sure signs of gratitude, tears?  The thing is, discounting the gratitude in effect discounts our gift, whether that gift is of time, money, love, or other resource.  How many times have you expressed appreciation to someone only to hear them say, “Oh, it is nothing.”

What is nothing?  The act of giving?  The gift itself?  If that is true then where is the gift, where is the meaning and intent behind the gift?  So, what, you gave me something that is nothing, means nothing to you?  Then why bother?

I don’t know about you but when I say thank you to someone, I want them to fully accept and take in my gratitude and appreciation because that too is a gift. 

See, giving is a circular action of giving, receiving, and giving appreciation for the giving.  If we don’t fully receive the gratitude, we stop the circle of giving.  We halt that flow of life that creates abundance.

So much of the recent writing and teaching on abundance, like The Secret, stresses the importance of feeling and expressing gratitude to the Universe, God, Source in order to keep the flow of abundance going.  The implication, then, is that the Universe, God, Source happily and completely receives your gratitude.  So happily, in fact, that He/She/It gives to you more, and then happily again receives your thanks.  On and on.

Giving and gratitude are part of a whole.  “You can’t have one without the other,” as that old song says.

So don’t just give thanks, receive it.  Joyfully.  Completely.  It is NOT nothing.  It is something.

Happy Holiday!

You’re welcome! Truly!

Lingerie and Waiting Tables 

Lest there be misunderstanding and confusion regarding my remark about abandoning creativity for selling lingerie and waiting tables, I decided I better follow up with another post.

As a creativity coach, I believe creativity can be part of everything we do, whether it is playing piano, frosting a cake, or, yes, selling lingerie.  Each of us has our own, maybe not unique, but most authentic and natural way to express our creativity, and when we can happily engage in that form of creativity, then we find that it spills over into most if not all areas of our lives.

Some people bring amazing creativity to jobs like waiting tables and selling lingerie because they have a talent for connecting with people and being of service.  The thing is, people in positions like these are usually guaranteed a financial return on their investment of time and energy in salaries and tips.

However, singers, composers, actors, writers, painters, and others in the arts can put lots of time, energy, heart and soul into developing skills and creating work only to get absolutely no remuneration at all.  So, they turn to something that will pay—like waiting tables and selling retail—as a job, not as another form of creative expression.

As a mother whose sons have waited tables yet find primary creative expression and satisfaction in photography, music, writing, and networking, I don’t want to see them–or any of us–totally sacrifice creative expression on the altar of economic and societal demands.  I don’t want my youngest to become an accountant, for instance, when what he loves is composing music…

Oh sure, there may be times in our lives where we put our creativity on hold for weeks, months, or (shudder) years while we pay bills, raise children, etc.  But not give it up altogether! 

I don’t know about you but I would be one unhappy person.  When I am too long away from the loom or writing, I get cranky.  Things in my life don’t flow as smoothly.  I lose some sense of who I am.  Actually, if I gave up writing and weaving, I wouldn’t be who I am.  I don’t know who I would be…

 I don’t want anyone, because of economic demands and social expectations, to surrender their creativity, to let go of the immense joy and satisfaction that comes with expressing themselves through whatever medium calls to them.  Who knows what would we lose individually and as a society?

I recently returned from a trip with my husband and our friends, Bill and Patty, to Orlando, Florida and—you guessed it—Disney World. 

I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of commercial success that arose from one creative idea – Mickey Mouse.

If I could, I’d ask Uncle Walt if, when he created Mickey, he had in mind such megalithic entertainment success.  At the original point of creation, how did he define success?  One cartoon completed?  Fame and recognition? Making hundreds if not thousands of people smile at his mouse? A significant deposit in his bank account?

That last question is the challenge and why I’m not sure how I define success anymore.

For creatives, success so often isn’t about the money we make.  It is about expression, completion, appreciation, and recognition (a big one, that).  Yet, we live in a culture that most often defines success by position and financial achievement, which can leave us feeling creatively devalued and powerless.

This can be really hard on creative males who don’t follow the tried and true path of business career and advancement (and I know this from friends and our sons), but I think it is even more challenging for women who spend much of their creative time and energy raising children before finally being able to move fully into other creative expressions.

We become accustomed to not being valued for our creativity because no one pays us to be mothers—absolutely one of the most creatively challenging professions (yes, a profession if done with passion and commitment) out there.  So when we turn to writing, painting, dancing, etc. we are not surprised when we aren’t paid well if at all.  We are used to doing the things we love, to gestating and giving birth to our creative children without pay or recognition.

I used to define my weaving success as selling a throw or shawl or scarf to someone who was excited to have it and appreciated the rich colors and seductive textures.  Once achieved, success became selling my work to a reputable gallery that recognized the quality of my work.  I achieved that.  Still, I had business debt and sons in college so success eventually became selling a certain dollar amount at a show, at which point it lost some of its joy because of the pressure to make enough and to sell enough.

I used to define my writing success as having a good magazine or site buy my work so others could read it, thereby gaining recognition.  After that, success was getting my manuscript taken on by an agent, which did happen.  The next step to success was getting the book taken on by reputable publisher, which didn’t happen.  So, because I believed in the book, I published it myself (I can hear you groan…).  Weaving a Woman’s Life: Spiritual Lessons from the Loom is, I believe, already a success since, besides winning national awards, many women have shared with me their appreciation for the insights and help gained from the book.  Still, in others’ eyes, in the eyes of the publishing world and beyond, the book is not a success because I haven’t sold enough, i.e. made enough money from it.

So am I a success?  Today, I don’t know.  If I died tomorrow, I’d believe that I was a terrific success at creating and raising, with my husband, three intelligent, compassionate, and multi-talented sons.  I’d know that I successfully created a national reputation as a weaver of beautiful garments and throws.  I’d know that I wrote and published an award-winning book that has helped women of all ages and is a legacy of sorts for my sons. 

Still, if I died tomorrow and you looked at how many weavings or books I sold, and then you looked at the money in my business accounts—well, I guess I would be a failure…

On some days, I absolutely believe I am a success. On others, like today, that position is hard to maintain.  No wonder that so many of us experience creative blocks, or create something without passion or meaning, or give up our creative passions to wait tables or sell lingerie instead.

So, today, are you a success?