Whole Life Creativity: The Art of Noticing

// July 18th, 2011 // 9 Comments » // writing ideas

How do you feel when you face a blank page?

Some days it’s not a big deal for me, some days it’s difficult.

When it’s good, writing and creating is like something fresh and vivid pouring itself onto the paper.

Then there’s the not-good times. The block shows up first in my body–as heat, as tension–it’s like I’m a thermometer and the red mercury of dread is rising up through me.

That feeling reminds me of exams I’ve taken where I sat, pen in hand, mortified as every drop of knowledge  evaporates, leaving me stuck on a hard seat staring at the sheet of paper demanding answers from me.

Most of my experience of writer’s block is somehow related to false expectations. Set by me, or a someone else, as if I’m being examined and about to be ‘found out’ as lacking something.

I’ve developed a practice that helps me with all of these things, that is changing my relationship to writing, it’s called ‘noticing’.

Noticing is my way of dissolving false expectations, and tapping into what lies underneath all of that anxiety. It’s a way of claiming a small victory for myself. the small victory of starting. Which often leads to a snowballing effect–once I’ve pierced the crust of my anxiety I’m free to mine all the good that lies beneath it.

This is how it works:

Start by writing the word ‘noticing’ at the top of your page, and begin to write whatever comes into your awareness, in this moment. Anything counts, if the pen is moving, this is working. There is no quality requirement here, we just record what’s happening in the moment, even that is just a starting point, if you veer away that’s fine, too.

Whenever you get stuck, or need a moment to regather, or simply want to follow a new train of thought write the word ‘noticing’ again keep the pen moving:

Noticing the boys walking outside my window, chatting away. The sound of geese? ducks? the light is low and I see grey through the window. The room is warm. Noticing tension in my head. At my temples. I’m tired and flat. Noticing the light falling on the page, how my hand casts a shadow over the tip of my pen and each word is written in shadow then moves into the light as my hand moves across

The repetition of the word noticing does a few things. First of all, even before I come up with my first word, ink has already met the paper: no blank page. It sounds insignificant, but with writer’s block there are no insignificant victories. There’s writing, and there’s not writing.

The word noticing also gives me a focus, I have a clear simple action to perform, that keeps me from spinning my wheels.
I also like the rhythm of the word: ‘no-ti-cing. I often write it out a few times when I’m stuck and just enjoy that rhythm, and what it draws out from me:

noticing noticing noticing … a plane flying overhead, the small of my back is tight, I’m leaning forward in my chair, now shifting a little, my back has eased slightly , still tight. the window just brightened, the sun is out and there’s a mess of garden hose all lit up on the ground outside.

No grammar check, no spell check, no checking anything here. The exercise is all about getting the pen moving, and touching base with your present moment experience.

Noticing is for everybody, the great thing about this exercise is that you can’t get it wrong because you’re just recording what is coming into your field of attention as it happens. And also, you can’t get it right, because no matter how fast you write you can’t possibly capture with pen and hand all the things that are you are noticing in any given moment.

Ideas of right and wrong become completely irrelevant. Take that inner critic!

It’s a great practice to begin a writing session–that’s my favourite use. I also find it calming, and will often ‘notice’ for a few minutes before writing an email, or filling out a form I’ve been stressed about, or even if I just want to sit and do some journalling (I never know what to journal about, so noticing is really helpful there. )

I’ll sometimes take a pen and paper out into the garden when I’m supervising my son’s play, too. It’s nice to sit out there with a cup of tea, do a bit of noticing, run around with the boys for a while, do some more noticing. It’s a great way to check in and touch base.

You can go as lightly or deeply as you choose to with this. Sometimes,I’ll start off noticing and hit an idea or a felling that really draws me in and the noticing becomes something else entirely– a blog post, a starting point for a poem, or a painting.

Anything can happen.

Give it a try and let me know how you go with it.

*****

Noticing is one of the exercises we cover in my Tea House Writing sessions, you can read about them here if you’re interested.

I was also interviewed this week about writing and creativity by Fiona over at ‘Writing Our Way Home’ . While you’re there you might want to check out their great writing community.

Cross Your Creative Threshold

// February 28th, 2011 // 2 Comments » // creativity

Have you ever crossed a major threshold in your life and not realized it until much later? 

By threshold, I mean some particular moment that signifies moving from one phase of your life, or state of being, and into another. Some thresholds are easy to catch as you go through: weddings, graduations, the birth of a child. Others just sort of happen, and the realization that you’ve crossed over dawns slowly.

 

Take The Step:

I stepped into a local community hall one winter night, unaware it was a ‘life threshold’. I thought it was just another door into a (hopefully) warm room full of people.

There were signs this might be something different. A woman stood at the entrance twirling a large fire-stick and chatting to people as they arrived–the flaming ends of the stick whooshed and seared incomprehensible signs into the frigid air, thick smoke anointed me as I walked past.

Taking the step is the defining act of crossing a threshold, it involves movement, action, stepping into an unknown situation. It sounds simple, “just do it” simple. But before taking that step, something else has to happen.

 

Be Ready To Leave Something Behind

It was an event to raise money for a local youth circus group. Once inside, I saw people gathered in small pockets: young people, parents, musicians, youth workers, poets.

On the way to the event I debated with myself whether to just forget the whole thing turn around. I’d recently moved to this community following a marriage breakup, was working two jobs, studying, feeling very burnt-out.

The term threshold comes from the Old English term ‘threscold’ the ‘thresh’ part of that meant to tread, or trample, and probably refers to people banging their boots on the heavy board of the doorsill to knock off the mud before they entered the house.

The mud I was banging from my boots that night was the sense of isolation that I’d been taking refuge in up to that point.

I didn’t want that for myself anymore. Walking into that room was uncomfortable but I’d made the decision to reconnect with people.

 

Be Curious

There was movement between the groups, and a stage set up at the front with an open mic. People took turns to play, sing, recite poetry, tell stories and jokes. There was no system. Whenever the stage emptied, someone strolled up and filled it with whatever gift they had to offer.

I remember a young woman got up, unaccompanied, and sang a quirky, jazzy song. It was beautiful. An older guy followed and recited a long and humorous political poem. He was great too, but my attention was wavering, distracted by a comforting, spicy fragrance flowing out from the kitchen beside the stage.

An open counter separated the kitchen from the rest of the hall, through it you could see people bustling, setting up pot luck dishes and laughing. Simmering on the stovetop were two large pots. Here was the source of the smell.

When I went to investigate, there was a woman moving from one pot to the other: checking, stirring. She explained the pots were filled with Chai tea, one made with cows milk, and one with soy. I’d never heard of it before, (this was in thedays before Starbucks Chai Latte). I tried both pots and was instantly hooked, it was like the perfect comfort food–but in a drink.

She showed me how to put it all together, and I volunteered to make the next batch while she caught up with friends.

Curiosity allows you to make the most of the new situation as you move into it. If you are crossing a threshold,  it is likely that there is something on the other side that has drawn you there. Curiosity keeps you alert and helps you find what you’re seeking.

 

Follow through

Once you’ve crossed over, the next step is to keep moving. I had turned up that evening in an attempt to open up to the next step in my creative life, over the next few years I joined a local playback theatre group and had my first performance in that same hall, took my first Butoh workshop (same hall again), began movement and drama classes, had my first attempts at writing poetry, entered an art competition and saw my art hanging in a gallery for the first time.

 

Cultivate Meaning

Somehow the taste and smell of chai I encountered for the first time that night infused itself into my memory and came to represent a period of great change, where I began to stretch my creative capacity, where being creative became a conscious intention and one of the defining qualities I chose for myself.

We are always crossing thresholds, this is just one of many I’ve crossed. I picked this to focus on built a metaphor (Creative Chai) that I still draw heavily from years later.

A Flash Of Colour

// February 14th, 2011 // 3 Comments » // creativity

How much richness are you filtering out of your life?

A patient came to Milton Erikson, the famous hypnotherapist, in a very stuck state.

She had been asked to go on a week long trip and did not want to leave her hometown, even though she was miserable there. She preferred the idea of staying put and hating where she was.

Once she was under hypnosis, Erikson’s instructions to her were, firstly, to be very curious about this state. Secondly, during the following week she was to go on that trip and while there, very unexpectedly, she would see a flash of colour.

She would be very curious about this.

During that week the woman did see a flash of colour–it was a red-headed woodpecker flying past bright, green foliage. Seeing that bird had a profound effect on her and she began a period of her life where she travelled a lot and delighted in seeing and experiencing new things.

Part of what Erikson did was to encourage her to hold the expectation that she would see something wonderful and awe inspiring.

We filter so much out of our own lives

in order to protect ourselves from being overwhelmed, that we can too easily miss the richness of the world around us. When she held the expectation of, once again, perceiving some of the richness she had filtered out, it happened. And because a connection had been made between her sense of stuck-ness and seeing the flash of colour, it created a major shift.

One way to become more creative

is to expect that ideas will come to you, to maintain a presence in your daily life that allows you to notice small details that can fuel your creativity.

Each of these small details can serve as a nugget of inspiration, a reminder to slow down and appreciate the beauty around us, or it may provide a metaphor, or understanding that cracks open a stuck-ness in our life.

So at some point in the coming week, Dear Reader, you will see a flash of colour. Let me know when you do!

Muse Missives: Invitation

// July 6th, 2010 // 8 Comments » // creativity, curiosity

Dear Muse,

You are cordially invited to attend our upcoming creative endeavour.

It will be a simple affair with moderate amounts of paint, paper, string, sweet drinks, balloons, and birdsong provided.

We have taken the liberty of placing a sturdy chair beside the apple tree. We can also organize a faux-Classical Greek fountain if needed. Seriously. We live very close to a Home Depot.

You may be aware that my artistic side is fickle, fizzled, and occasionally crabby. We’re sure you can find a graceful way to be with this slightly hoonish part of me. I will be there to mediate if necessary.

There will be geese wandering the grounds, you may wish to wear boots.

There is no need to bring wine (though feel free), a small bag of bread crusts will suffice.

Breathlessly awaiting your arrival,

Dave.

The Goat King Sits On A Golden Throne

// May 12th, 2010 // 3 Comments » // creativity, metaphor, Sovereignty

Everything was burned.

I stood at the edge of our property where the bush began its descent into the valley. Looking out over the blackened landscape, I saw a white shape shifting behind some tree trunks.

At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, and walked closer to get a look. Then I saw it again.

A white goat had come up from the valley and was walking through looking for green vegetation to eat. It seemed to be floating though the grey smoke still rising from the ground.

*****

In early December, 2001, the Blue Mountains National Park in New South Wales, Australia, was hit with ferocious bush-fires. I had just moved there from Sydney 10 days before the fires hit.

After shifting all my belongings into my new home, I had them all packed up again ready for a possible evacuation.

The house was a rambling 130 year old mess that I shared with two other renters. It sat on 5 acres at the top of a ridge, the bush started a few feet away from our back door and rolled all the way down the valley.

We spent one anxious night sitting on the back verandah watching the fires out to the west. The winds were forecast to be 80 km/hour and headed straight for us. We sat most of the night watching the fiery glow seared across the horizon, waiting for the moment we would have to leave.

The moment never came. The forecast winds only hit 4 km an hour instead of the predicted 80. The next day the local bush-fire brigade came out and did some back-burning behind our house and we were safe again.

The day after the back-burning I went out for a walk to check things out. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a full-blown raging bushfire run through, because the effect of a tightly controlled back-burn was pretty decimating.

Just days before, the under growth had been thick and difficult to navigate. In the week after moving in, my first few attempts to get to the track leading down into the valley leading to the creeks and waterfalls were futile. Each time I ended up turning back, fearful I would lose track of where my new house was.

After the back-burning, there was just an expanse of charred soil, warm underfoot with smoke still slowly rising from it. Dead remnants of trees still stood here and there and a few had fallen and had to be climbed over.

The walk down to the sandstone cliffs that marked the steep drop into the valley now took about five minutes, about a quarter what it had when battling through the undergrowth.

*****

So, here I was. Looking at a goat.

I stood as quietly as possible, and watched it nose around for a while. The goat looked untouched by the charred brush around him. I wondered if it had bolted from a nearby home, frightened by the back-burning.

It was such a strange sight, the animal so clean and domesticated, foraging through ashes.

After watching the goat for a while, I went back to the house and drew a few quick sketches in a notebook. I thought it would be good to use in a piece of art somewhere down the line. Then I pretty much forgot about it..

*****

A few months later, the bush was regenerating. Everything  was thinned right out and it was easier to find the previously overgrown tracks leading down to the public  walks.

I spent at least one day of each weekend walking in the valleys, I usually followed the creeks that spread out through the surrounding area, climbing up waterfalls as they gradually got smaller and smaller then slowed to a trickle at their source.

The Blue Mountains area is famous for its golden sandstone cliffs and ridges, and I would often spot caves high above the creeks, climb up and check them out.

One series of cliffs had these gigantic golden caves that were eroded into the shape of golden waves about to break over the creek at their base.

I tried a few times but never found a path up to the ledges near the cliff tops. Whenever I walked by that creek I’d look up above the tree-line and check them out.

One day I looked up as I walked by and saw a white shape against the sandstone. It was the goat again. He was sitting on his belly, paws close to the lip of the ledge. He surveying the valley as if he was a king sitting on his golden throne.

The goat is a great metaphor for me, as he walks the landscape of my imagination. He represents a model for how I want to be in both my creative life and my ‘feet on the ground’ life. Because, really, they’re both the same thing. To me, he represents the qualities of sovereignty that I want to bring to my life.

He brought the same calm presence to the blackened landscape as he did to the recovering landscape. He walked among the charred debris and sat up on his throne, present and watchful, as the land around him bloomed into green.

Creative growth depends on this ability to maintain Sovereignty over my life, to walk through the blank times when the ideas leave me. That’s when I need to forage calmly, sniffing after any remaining green shoots.

I can also take my place at the golden throne and bring presence to my life.  Here I can cultivate the ability to be watchful, settled, calm within myself. At the same time, remembering that the world around me is magnificent, but can be lost in a blazing moment. Cultivating a sense of humour helps, too. (Another reason a goat makes such a great metaphor for my higher creative self!)

It’s important to find my golden throne, but I also need to remember it’s made of solid rock and shaped through the erosion of weather and time. Not always comfortable. Life experiences, the knowledge distilled from these, shapes who I am, how I process the world and what I have to offer. This is my golden throne.

What is your golden throne? What forces went in to shaping it for you? When you sit on your golden throne what do you see, what perspective does it give you?

Want to learn more about the concept of Sovereignty? Check out this wonderful recording by Hiro Boga or this great post on Havi’s blog

Parenting Is A Creative Act

// April 27th, 2010 // 2 Comments » // creative parent, creativity, curiosity, poetry

One of my favourite creative moments came just before the birth of our second son. My wife had been on bed rest for much of the second half of a very complicated pregnancy, and there were a few scares involving rushed trips to the hospital towards the end. Our oldest son had just turned three and was pretty freaked out by all of this.

We were playing in the yard and talking about how he didn’t want us to leave him to go to the hospital when his brother was born. At the time, one of his favourite toys was a Spiderman ball. So we got the sidewalk chalk and I drew a huge version of the Superhero on the driveway right by our front door, and told Finn that Spiderman was here to protect him.

Finn still had a hard time with the birth and the settling in of the new baby. The drawing helped at least a little, and he was happy to have it there. But beyond any talismanic protection Spiderman offered, the real value in this moment, at least for me, was that for a moment he knew that I was trying to understand what he was going through and doing something about that.

Creativity is much more than coming up with a great idea, or completing a piece of art. It infuses the way we walk in the world. Do we live as fully present as possible,in a way that embraces curiosity, imagination, and a sense of wonder at our surroundings?

Parenting is the ultimate creative act. It’s a wild place to be. You get to witness the creative energy streaming out of young children, as they explore the world and process it in the most amazing and unpredictable ways. What a joy to watch and participate in that!

But being a parent can, at times, feel like being stuck in the most uncreative place in the world. Where you’re stressed out, sleep deprived, shuffling from demand to demand like a zombie. You start wondering whether you’ll ever get some space just to be yourself again. Or if your creative days may be over.

As parents and creative people these are the two poles we swing between. But there are ways that we can allow the spirit of creativity to be continuously present, and even make it a haven in a chaotic life.

Commit! (to not doing your art)

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This is the one that makes all the difference to me. If I’m minding the boys and racing around making bottles, picking up toys, and fetching snacks while trying to work out an illustration or blog post in my head, all I end up doing is to make myself intensely frustrated. And resentful.

When I let go of my creative goals and commit fully to the fact that this is just Dad-time, then things get much easier. Just dropping the need to do my own thing (which would never happen anyway) relieves me of a huge amount of stress and frustration.

Something that really helps here is realizing that letting go of my creative goals means simply loosening my grip, not throwing them away.

Over time I’m really coming to trust in the wisdom of my unconscious mind. When I have a block of time where I’m looking after the boys I try to set a creative intention for my subconscious. If my next blog post is on parenting and creativity, I’ll just pop a simple question in like, what themes should I explore for that post? Then I let go and trust that something, no matter how small, will be bubbling away down there ready for me to retrieve when I have some writing time.

This allows me to be more fully present with the boys and not half-there to them while sorting out ideas. For me, being split like that guarantees this will be a day where I suck at both parenting and creating.

Surf Your Child’s Creative Energy

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Children have a lot to teach us about living creatively. Dinosaurs happen to be a big thing in our house. My son has corrected me, and I now understand that that they are not actually extinct, but very much alive. And, in fact, they live in our garden.

I’ve been on a number of dinosaur hunts with our older son and it’s great to walk around the garden trying to see things from his perspective. Puddles become Triceratops footprints, our cedar tree’s scattered twigs become fossilised dinosaur bones.

The world becomes larger as I crouch down to see bushes, rocks and tress from the perspective of a four year old. The world becomes more magical and alive as I drop my weary notions about dinosaurs and participate in a world where the ground still shakes with their every step.

Recalibrate Your Relationship to Time

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A few years ago I was consistently spending at least 2-3 hours a day on writing poetry. I had plenty of time to read books of poetry, and books on poetry, and got to hang out and participate on poetry forums. Add to this well many hours spent sketching and daydreaming, occasional visits to art galleries. I had all the creative time in the world.

I’m glad I had that too. I’m hoping one day to have that kind of luxury again.

But, now I have to make the most of every second I get. I’ve learned to work in 25 minute increments. Where I used to allow myself outrageous periods of incubation time, now I just snatch whatever moments I can. The surprising result is, I’m much more decisive an artist than I was a few years ago, and can feel myself sharpening up creatively.

Be Kind To Yourself

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While training to be a Creativity Coach, the first thing I was taught was to meet others where they’re at. The second thing was to practice self coaching. This involves asking a lot of questions of myself:

Can I meet myself where I’m at? Which of my creative goals are realistic right now? What small thing can I do to build some creating time for myself? What things I can prioritise? Do I have the support I need?

Most importantly can I be kind to myself? Even in simple ways like negotiating breaks with my wife, allowing myself a hot shower, clean clothes, healthy foods each day. (I’ve let all three of these slide by on too many occasions)

*****

I gladly chose to be a husband and a parent and this is my life’s major creative project. Even though some difficulties arise with this path, every single day I get swept up in the joy and privilege of seeing my two beautiful sons grow, and take part in helping them to shape their lives.

What can be more creative than that?

*****

If there are parents reading this I’d love to hear what you do to maintain your creative life as you raise your children. What difficulties do you face? What great successes have you had?