Weaving The Dream

Several years ago when I was doing one of my annual studio clean-outs and clean-ups, I decided to try using some feng shui principles I’d learned.

So I put purple in one corner, red in another, hung a bell between my cones of yarn, and made sure my fountain was in a good location to keep the energy moving—my creative energy and the energy of abundance—for my weaving business.

Did my efforts produce any change?  I don’t remember.  If they did, I didn’t make note of it.  Like a diet we try for a while and then abandon when we don’t drop 20 pounds in three weeks, whatever happened wasn’t enough to keep me mindful about maintaining order and energy flow.

Now I need to clean my studio again, always, every day.  Between paperwork, weaving yarns, books on writing, dreams, oracles and myths, packing to go away to teach and consult, and unpacking when I return, my studio manages to be in a steady state of chaos.

But while talking to a friend the other day, I realized I wanted to re-instill a sense of the sacred in my space, to both honor the work I do there and to remind me of my purpose.  Since I am always urging other creative women to do this, I need to practice what I preach.

Owl figures, fairies, candles, crystals, and inspiring images sit on shelves, windowsills, and desktop, and even hang on my limited wall space.  But too often my work, my materials, and my piles of books surround or bury them.  (Put a writer in a cave and in no time bats and stalagmites will give way to piles of books!)
 
If I can’t see the small sculptures of owls that remind me of my dream work with people and of my own inner wisdom, then I can too easily forget the sacred dimension of my work and the why I do what I do when I am caught up in the what and how.

I need to clean my space.  I need to create small altars for the four directions—east, south, west and north—to honor inspiration, will, creativity, and manifestation, to honor my words, my visions, my passions, and my efforts.  And to create sacred space for the Muse.

I need to create sacred space for sacred work.

How about you?  Does your space honor the sacred dimension of your creativity?

Less than two weeks ago, Bob and I returned to his hometown of Pittsburgh to join in the celebration of his oldest sister’s 50th wedding anniversary.

Weddings are about a couple making a (usually) sacred commitment to love one another through thick and thin, through the ups and downs of life, love, and, for many, through the challenges of parenthood.

50th wedding anniversaries are about honoring and celebrating a couple for making those long-ago weddings vows a living and lasting reality.  We share with them the recognition of the rewards and satisfaction of fulfilling that commitment.

At a wedding ceremony, we honor the romantic and sacred dimensions of love, and the courage of each partner to commit to one another, ideally, ‘til death us do part.

At a 50th wedding anniversary, we stand in awe at the couple’s achievement—to work, to sacrifice, to grit teeth, to dry tears, to support, to believe in, to have and to hold, even when the polish on the romance gets dusty and courage flags…

Sometimes when we commit to something, like a relationship, a job, writing a book, we do so with the naiveté of the untried and the untested.  We commit with optimism, with hope, and with faith in happy endings.

Then we experience the work that the commitment requires.  The true grit. The getting-up-every-day-and-working-at-it-no-matter-what determination that a job, a relationship, or our creative work requires—even when our romance with the project, or relationship may wane, and our courage for seeing it through may weaken.  We may wonder, “Is this really that important?  Is this really what I want?  WHY AM I DOING THIS?”

We have our reasons—supporting ourselves and our children, having a career, leaving a legacy, making a difference in the world, keeping our word.  But bottom line?  We do it because something in our hearts and souls long for the deepest satisfaction of knowing we honored our commitment and ourselves by following through to the happy ending.

I watched Bob’s sister and her husband view a computer montage of photos of their years together, of their kids, and grandchildren growing right along with the marriage.  I watched—as she leaned toward him to whisper something, as he reached out to pat her arm, as she shared a tissue for a shared loss—and I mused on their triumph, on how wonderful, how rewarding it is to have the strength and will and faith to follow through on the significant commitments in our lives. 

Bob and I will celebrate our 36th anniversary in a few weeks.  So I have a sense of what is required to honor significant commitments. And how rewarding it can be.

I want to have the true grit to honor my commitments to my writing and to my coaching as successfully because…bottom line?  My heart and soul longs for that deep satisfaction of honoring myself and my work—all the way to the happy ending.

What about you?  Is there a creative commitment your heart is longing to make and, with true grit, follow through with all the way to your happy ending?