During my yoga training, we discussed the difference between goals and intentions. I’ve always had goals. They’re good for pointing one in a direction, which is way better than ambling down some path we may not even know is the right one, and then years later realize we should have headed north, when all along we were going south. Many writers have written books about setting intentions for everything from getting out of the house on time in the morning to completing an advanced degree and landing an ideal job. Having intentions for the day, a creativity project you’re working on, or even an intention to begin, or end, a habit intrinsically removes the ‘no pain, no gain’ mentality. Meaning, intentions invite us to be happy all along the way, and not just when we arrive at our ‘goal’ or destination.

Cat Bennett, author of The Confident Creative: Drawing to Free the Hand and Mind, agrees. Once we clarify our intention, it gives us a direction to move towards. Writing it down helps to keep that intention from getting muddy. Great ideas can come related to the project, or something else, and we don’t lose sight of where we’re going. Keeping our intentions in our thoughts helps us to create that reality. Seeing what we’ve written, reading it over, keeps things clear, simple, and moving forward.

Part of creating art is accepting change. I’ve written in previous blogs that once we find a time or place or materials that feel right to us, that we stick with that to do our creating. I’ve also encouraged readers to switch things up. If you write in the morning, try writing in the afternoon. If you paint with watercolor, try sketching with chalk. Creativity changes us, and when we change, how we express ourselves changes too. If we refuse to adapt, even though our intention is providing a direction, we may miss opportunities along the way.

As we follow our intention (why we create, what we’re creating), it’s important to remember that we are on a journey to discover ourselves. Inspiration is different from intention. We can be inspired by nature, other artists, a piece of art, or an experience. Inspiration fuels our intention. It allows us to continue to travel the distance from where we are, to where we want to be, but being alright with a few dips and turns along the way. After all, that is what helps us to get to know ourselves better and keeps us filled with ideas to create.

Desire to do something, create a piece of art or organize a movement, sparks in us the will to move. This leads to inspiration, which drives our intention. Sometimes if we go looking for inspiration, it eludes us. But if we pay attention, we are gifted with whispers of where to go, what to do, who to speak with, and we find that these flashes between the conscious thoughts become our art. Miraculously, these ideas come to us at our skill level, or just above. Whatever they are, we can accomplish them. And if we look, we see that they are in alignment with our intention. Especially if we sit the critical ego in its time-out chair.

As anyone who partakes in the creative life knows, there are cycles. Sometimes it seems as if our muse is on an extended vacation. We search everywhere with our logical, thinking mind, and inspiration is nowhere to be found. What do we do? The same thing we did when we first heeded that calling. When we took a chance and picked up the pen, the brush, the guitar, the script, the camera. We took a deep breath and in between the thoughts, in the quiet stillness that we so often overlook, are instructions for joy. If we are working away and don’t pause to hear the muse, we can lose sight of our intention, forget what we desired, and find ourselves in a state of parched inspiration.

Feel your desires. Allow them to fuel your intentions. Write them out and keep them where you can see them. Intend to enjoy the sights along the road as you journey from here to there. Be still and allow inspiration to highlight points of interest on the map. If you get lost, come back to your desire, your intention, and new inspiration will be there waiting. Leave a comment if you have a favorite person, place, or object that leads to inspiration. You can view the results of mine at www.myjoyenterprises.com

“I want people to have my pictures,” Billy told me.

A fine art photographer and friend, he shared with me his idea that instead of offering his prints for sale at the Farmers and Crafts Market, that we should tell people that everything is free. When he first mentioned this to me, there was a long silence. How was I going to pay off the debt I had accumulated in printing my books if I gave everything away? Granted, no one was buying them and I wrestled with the probability that people just didn’t read books anymore. Or most likely, books in paper form from an unknown author. Really, what did I have to lose? I agreed to Billy’s experiment.

Being of similar mind when it comes to spirituality, we both believe that if we were to carry this out, then the forty dollars it cost for the space would be available to us before we went to the market. That came through. However, the morning of the market, it was raining. We debated whether we should go, but then remembered we had faith that this idea would work, that people would want our art for free.

The canopy was erected in the rain, our space making a total of five instead of the usual twenty booths. I unpacked my books and we set up some of Billy’s pictures. I suggested we make a sign that read “Art Appreciation Day. Everything is Free. No strings attached. Two items per customer.” Billy penned the sign and as the precipitation waned, our first ‘customer’ was Vera from the booth next to ours.

“Why is everything free?” she asked.

“I want people to have my pictures, and Michele wants people to have her books,” Billy replied.

“No way. Free? Nobody gives their stuff away for free!”

Vera insisted that she give us something, so she put $10 on the table and took a picture of lilies. Billy and I looked at each other. We didn’t expect people to give us money, and hadn’t brought anything in which to place the money. Billy created a box from some mat board and wrote “Good Karma Box” on the side. We left it at the back of the booth on the table.

As the rain clouds moved off, people began to walk the street. Some came out of the restaurant adjacent to the parking lot where the market was held. Because I was cold sitting in the shade of the booth, I moved outside the canopy and began to watch the people who walked by. What I noticed was interesting.

Most of the people passed by our booth, but stopped to look at, and much of the time, purchase one or more pieces of jewelry. One booth offered handmade jewelry (a piece of art which includes all the things that art brings to us), and another resold mass-produced items imported from another country.  My comment later that day to Billy was that people wouldn’t pause to look at a picture of nature (I also noticed and commented similarly when we were at the zoo and saw how many people didn’t ‘look’ at the animals, or how many of them moved off immediately if the animal wasn’t ‘entertaining’ enough), something that could offer them peace or a connection to the universe, yet they would happily pay money for something that came out of a factory to adorn their physical body. There is so much about human nature that I have yet to understand.

Half the people didn’t even turn their heads to read the “Everything is Free” sign. I think this stems from nearly all of us having an aversion to salesmen and if we make the dreaded eye contact, then we’ll be sucked in and have to be mean in order to extricate ourselves from the clutches of the proprietor attempting to sell us something under the guise of fixing a problem we might have. Out of the half that looked at the booth, perhaps one-fourth read the sign, but kept walking. The other fourth stopped and talked to either Billy or myself about the truth of the sign.

“You can’t get nothing for free,” they said.

“Why is everything free?” they asked.

“What’s the catch?” they peered at us, waiting for the strings that they assumed they would need to entangle themselves with in order to ‘get’ something for ‘free’. Someone even laughed thinking there was a hidden camera somewhere and that they would find themselves on television or YouTube.

There were many people who looked through the pictures, complimenting, rightly so, Billy on his work. He shared stories of the pictures and encouraged people to dig through the bins and find something that they ‘liked’. In artist terms, this means ‘something that speaks to you’. We talked with  a lot of people, shook hands, and exchanged business cards. Three books found a new home, each signed to the happy owners, along with about twenty prints. Four of the five booth owners that day took a picture or two, or a picture and a book. In ‘exchange’, we were given cash, a necklace, and some hand lotion. There were some people who took pictures and didn’t feel the need to leave something in the Karma Box. That was fine. It never occurred to me that someone would take cash out of the box since it was sitting in the open, as most of the day, at least after the rain,  Billy and I were outside the booth because there were so many people inside looking at pictures and books.

If you have read any of my posts before, you know that I believe the muse for all artists is that creative intelligence that runs through everything in the universe. When I write, when Billy takes pictures, we feel that connection. Yes, his pictures are beautiful and some of them make you think which side is up and what it actually is a picture of, as well as inviting the viewer to observe a glimpse of the connection that he captured with his camera. My stories are adventurous page-turners, but they also ask the reader to visit their beliefs and opinions on social matters. Both of us create because we’re invited to do so, and we believe that what we offer can point others in a similar direction, perhaps giving them an opportunity to connect as well.

At the end of the day, we were both buoyant with the positive energy we gave when people took what we had to offer, as well as what we received from those same individuals. There was $81.25 in the Karma Box. Did we ‘sell’ anything? No. We offered people what we had, and they in turn offered what they thought our gift was worth. How many pictures or books do you think we would have ‘sold’ had we not decided to give everything away?

Billy and I, and I’m sure many others, know that the economy, and society as a whole, would greatly improve if people changed the way they thought about buying and selling things. Why not pay a handyman or landscaper a fair wage for the work they do? Why not place canned goods in a perennial bin to feed those who cannot feed themselves? Why do we pay more for the same things, yet no one is any better off than before? Why are there more homeless when there is so much abundance? Why do people hold onto their money, they skills, their ‘things’ when they could be shared? How much do each of us need? If we don’t look someone in the eye, either a fellow shopper in the frozen food aisle or an artist at a crafts fair, then do we perpetuate our isolation and therefore continue to ‘hang onto’ what we believe is important? How often to we exchange the warmth of connecting with another human for a few minutes to get further down the road or to home  or work a bit quicker?

I attended the Saturday market on my own, and after a reminder, told people that the prints and books were free. Two people took two prints each. The energy level was different. What occupied my thoughts after the market today wasn’t that people took what was free and didn’t offer anything in exchange. That wasn’t an expectation that I had. But instead, my conditioned, fear-based self thought how would groceries and feed for the animals would be bought if I continued to give everything away for free. The feed store owner, the oil companies, the hospital, and the dentist, don’t work for ‘free’. They don’t offer their skills or their products in exchange for what others might deem they are worth. Because of my responsible nature, I will pay taxes on the $81.25. It will then be reinvested in prints that Billy can continue to offer for free. It would be ideal if we could earn a living this way, people finding value in what we have to offer, a connection that perhaps they otherwise may not recognize. And because I, like most of us, am stuck in the capitalistic mentality, I fret over having enough. Is it lack of faith in people? In the universe? Leave a comment below if you agree or disagree with our thoughts on how society can be. If you’re interested in the books I gave away, you can view them at www.myjoyenterprises.com Billy’s work can be enjoyed at http://web.mac.com/billyrhoades/

Art isn’t an end in itself. It is a place to practice quieting the mind so that we may hear our muse whispering to us. Writing, drawing, playing music, dancing, taking pictures, cooking, painting all bring us to the present moment. This is the same ‘zone’ as an athlete enters when they are fully vested in the game or the race or the downhill run. Yoga, meditation, mountain biking, even horseback riding can bring us to that place where all the extraneous thoughts of the ego are not heard and our senses are filled with what is in the moment. Bennett tells us this is a place of ‘connection, power, and healing’. I agree with her. We’re connected to something much larger than ourselves, that power sparking our own significance, urging us to let go of what is holding us back, keeping us from experiencing ourselves as we were meant to be experienced. When we create, we are invited to enter this state.

Whenever I sit down to write, there invariably is a moment when thoughts flash through my mind of, ‘What do the readers want to read?’, ‘How can I make this different from anything else that is already in print?’, and ‘What would my mother think?’ Occasionally, as I’m writing, the critic slips in and tries to make the character do or say something that they wouldn’t do or say. I simply pause, breathe, push the thought away, and again allow the story to spill onto the page the way it is meant to. As Bennett says, the more attention we give to those thoughts, the longer we are derailed from our purpose of authentic creating.

That is not to say that the critic never has anything of value to add. In her drawing class, Bennett asks artists to do a series of drawings, and then lay them out in chronological order. The class then visits each display. Nothing is said right away, but then small comments are made regarding what the drawings have in common, how they differ from one another or change through the series. Might the first be more experimental and the last perhaps more refined? In all of them, is there not enough difference in depth, or do things tip to one side? A critique is offered, but only after similarities are seen, compliments given, the artist’s unique style recognized. Why not have that be a practice for all of us who choose to create? I can assure you that the change in my writing from my first book to my last is evident. All of them are good stories. Their syntax unique as I experiment with various languages based on the time setting of the story. Each one was created with a slightly different flow. Even I recognize there is a particular maturity that can be seen from the first novel in print to the last. Those that have read all of my books tell me that what I do well, is done well throughout all of my novels. There is a tremendous amount of growth that can come from an exercise such as this. Lay out several paintings, play different pieces of music, look at a series of photographs and notice what is consistent in each, what might be the strength and weakness in the set, and then see if there is maturity from the first piece to the last. This is the presence of the artist, their particular style, the mastery of a technique. Bennett says, “Art communicates directly with our subconscious minds, with our hearts.” Because of this, it may take some time for us to consciously ‘see’ the artist in their art.

One hurdle creatives must overcome is the thought that there should be no mistakes. A chef will burn a meal, a painter will use a color that distracts the eye in a piece, a writer or poet will use the passive voice or one synonym instead of another, a photographer will print a photograph with the incorrect white balance, and that is alright! These projects aren’t failures, but opportunities to decipher where it is we’re going. They let us know when we’ve stepped off the path. Not the path of creativity, but perhaps the path that we are on for that project. These detours, what some call mistakes, allow us to deviate into the unknown. It might work, it might not, or it might be something we come back to and revisit later.

A way to help us along our artist journey is by utilizing a sketchbook. Writers aren’t the only ones that could benefit from this practice. Jotting down ideas, sketching our thoughts or things we see during our daily rounds can be recorded in this one place. It doesn’t need to be an expensive journal, and shouldn’t be. Then we might believe that we shouldn’t make ‘mistakes’ in it, that what we record must be used in some future project. That isn’t the purpose. It is a place to capture thoughts and ideas, a messy kind of ‘office’ that we can return to for inspiration or direction.

Bennett has more ideas on creativity and exercises to practice expanding our artistic nature. On my website, www.myjoyenterprises.com, you can read the prologue and the first two chapters of each of my novels and discern for yourself the parts that are the same throughout, and the changes-and hopefully maturity-from the first to the last.

“Watch your thoughts”, Cat warns us. There have been innumerable life coaches, psychologists, counselors, and scientists that stress that our thoughts come before our emotions and that in turn affects how we go throughout our day and interact with others. The same is true for our art. As we create, thoughts might arise that what we’re doing is worthwhile or not. Depending on how much credence we give the thought, how much we indulge in what our ego tosses out to us, determines how we feel about our creation. If we give up based on the thought, how does that make us feel? If we push through the hurdle, how does that affect our creativity? It is estimated that we have over 60,000 thoughts a day. How many are ‘good’ thoughts and help us out, and how many are trivial or ‘negative’ thoughts, which we can let go of and get on with our tasks? The more value we give a thought, the more it hangs around. Consider this when your critic pipes up and mentions that your colors are wrong, or that you’ve used incorrect punctuation, or that you metered on the shadow in the photograph when you should have metered on the sky. If we pay homage to what our critic says, then our enthusiasm for our work diminishes. Perhaps we put it away and take our time returning to it. But if we’re able to allow the thoughts to float by like clouds on a summer day or leaves on a pond, even instigating a ‘positive’ thought, then we are no more bothered by the negative than we are a breeze that brushes past.

Maybe for you, like me sometimes, coming up with a positive thought to replace the negative one is harder than showing up at the page when the critic is on a rampage. Because I am a practicing yogi, I understand Patanjali’s suggestion about watching our thoughts and noticing our habits. Sometimes, my best response is to laugh as I watch my mind spin the same old thoughts, the ones that keep me stuck, the ones that prevent me from creating. When I was taking counseling classes for my Masters, the saying, “Awareness is the first step”, when discussing addictions, was our mantra. Little did I know at that time how true those words are to every part of our life! If we wish to get into better shape, we need to become AWARE of how much we eat, what we eat, and how many hours our butts are planted in a chair. If we want to write/draw/paint/sketch/cook/sew/dance/sing better, then we need to become AWARE of our thoughts about our current performance and what other thoughts arise to take us in a forward direction. When we begin to watch our thoughts, choose what we decide to give our energy to, then we begin to tap into that part of ourselves that is above our thoughts. The more that we become of AWARE of what floats through our mind, the more we are able to be undisturbed by it; the more we can create without interruption.

Watching our thoughts is a form of discipline. Just as we wake up early to log in a couple of jogging miles, or write 2,000 words, we can discern what feels ‘freeing’ and what seems too comfortable. Because our inner critic is so willing to jump in with judgement, we need to be aware from a place of neutrality. One way to become aware of your thoughts is to utilize single-pointed focus. Concentrate fully on what you’re doing in the moment. If your mind wanders, if thoughts intrude, send them on their way and come back to what you’re doing. With practice, we’ll find ourselves more engaged in the moment (and our art) and less concerned with thoughts that trickle into our mind.

Another hurdle that impairs our art is pleasing. When we create only to please others or try to figure out what our readers want, what the art collectors desire, then, according to Cat, our work becomes second-rate and less authentic. Our work should please ourselves, and not the self that judges and condemns our attempts at self-discovery. And it is that judgement that constructs yet another obstacle. One way this comes up is when we try to force creativity. It is in the relaxed, moment-by-moment approach that invites the muse and opens the dance floor for a tango or cha-cha with your inspiration. To push and try to get things right only squeezes the lines feeding your muse.

A great thing about art is that we can ‘Start Over’. A hurdle that some artists face is that they want to keep everything they create, that everything will have the same brilliant shine. Yes, it is all original. Yes, it is all important to growth. But sometimes it is the letting go, the clearing out, the beginning again from a different direction that refreshes us and keeps us entertained as we create.

I have written over and over again about the courage it takes to create. Even if you choose to not share your work with the world, just to put pen to paper, brush to canvas, chalk to sketch pad, voice to music takes an incredible amount of courage. That courage comes with a healthy dose of faith and trust in the universe that your way will be illuminated and the journey will be worth the perceived perils. All of these hurdles can be overcome if we heed the call and show up to do the work. Without judgement, the art is what it is. We discover parts of ourselves covered over by the lies the ego whispers to us when we forget our courage and buy into its tales. Whatever art is created is perfect in that moment. We’ve learned something about ourselves, we’ve brought some joy to our lives, and if we choose to share our work, perhaps we enliven others.

Cat Bennett has much more to share with us, and I in turn have more comments, suggestions, and exercises for us to consider and use when do the work. www.myjoyenterprises.com is what I consider my ‘public forum’. It is where I show my authenticity and perhaps spark an idea in others. More will be showing up soon.

I have often written on my belief that we create based on who we are; that we discover more about ourselves when we are creative. And this is one example of how we get in our own way. To create, there must be acceptance of who we are. All the parts, not just the colorful, funny ones with lots of compassion, but the dark, ugly ones, too. Because our creativity is flavored with our life experiences and our perceptions, it is unique. But to create at all, we must be honest with ourselves. Inspiration comes when we show up at the page, easel, dark room, or stove. We begin to do the work, rolling up our sleeves and diving in with both hands, and then the peace arrives, and the whisperings become an orchestra director in our minds. However, if we were to not be authentic, or try to imitate other artists and never strike out on our own, or refuse to be bold enough to make friends with, and accept, our shadow selves, then that block is revealed in our art. The stories lack a good plot. The photographs are blurred. The dish is bland. The music has no crescendo. And not only will others see that we are holding back, but our own inner critic will bring out the soap box.

‘The Sneaky Voice of Unreason’, as Cat Bennett, author of The Confident Creative: Drawing to Free the Hand and Mind, calls the ego, is perhaps the biggest hurdle that we, as artists, must overcome. In certain circumstances in our lives, the ego protects us and keeps us safe. However, as we grow into adulthood, those same behaviors and thoughts that at one time kept us from harm, often gets in the way of fully expressing who we are as human beings. If we continue to listen to our critic, we play it safe and don’t risk exploring art or exposing ourselves to our own bright light. It is the ego and its constant chatter, often loud enough to drown out the muse, that keeps us small, keeps our thoughts and ideas about who we can become and how being adventurous in our art can make us more into the person we are meant to be, in the shadows. With awareness and practice and exercises, we can sit the critic in the corner and make it silent for a while. At least long enough to do what our heart cries out for: to dabble in the silly play of creating music, sculpture, poetry, paintings, elaborate desserts, or emotional dances. I’ve written before about giving the ego a place to speak, then setting it aside. There have been numerous activities to practice taking hold of the reins of creativity and doing it despite the nasty remarks of the critic. That voice isn’t real and it pokes at our insecurities. Perhaps we could let it win, or we could allow Truth to pour out of our medium and bless the world with our uniqueness. The choice is ours to make.

We’ve completed half the book! There are more obstacles than the outspoken ego that gets in our way. As we overcome these hurdles, great things can be brought forth. There are still some interesting reads on my website www.myjoyenterprises.com and I will follow through on the posting of new content soon.

In drawing from imagination, it helps us create our worlds as writers. Our characters are pieces of ourselves. The dancer, the notes in a song, the underlying flavors in a particular dish, the subtle hues in a painting, are part of our style, our own character, pieces of ourselves that we camouflage. And there is nothing that says just because we start out with one style, that it can’t morph into something else as we refine our art, which is a reflection of who we are.

How do we discover our style, refine it, change it? Experiment! Word prompts have been used for years to get writers unstuck. Lists of words that name objects, describe feelings, tell how something moves, words that rhyme or that depict sounds we might hear. Bennett suggests we group them together and create lists of 3-word imaginative pictures, then draw them. Why not write about them? Sculpt them? What would their theme song sound like? Picture words like ‘butterfly swim red’, ‘pink wheel skip’, or ‘cozy spike kick’. Perhaps you’ll find that the usual charcoal and paper won’t work for this exercise, but rather bold acrylic paint. Maybe close up black and white photographs of bugs instead of the usual peaceful landscapes.

Through all of this ‘making of art’, keep in mind that like life, it is about play. Trying this or that, instead of judging when something comes out different from how our critic planned. Reminding ourselves that our muse, which likes to entice the child inside of us (or maybe it’s the other way around), just wants to encourage that artist to express herself, to have fun, to create for the sake of self-expression and self-discovery. We decide what excites us, what makes us linger over a particular shape, color, word, note, or flavor. As we evolve along our life journey, so too does our level of creativity. Every time we pick up the pen or the brush or the camera, we are willing to look inside, to see where we have been, where we are now, and dabble in what the future might bring us.

I think it is past time that this artist do more than just refer her readers to her website that, if you’ve been there before, hasn’t changed much. The promise of added short stories and poems has yet to materialize. The work of a second volume of Yogis All and the completion of the second novel in my first trilogy continue in their current holding pattern. If you haven’t visited my website, then there is a plethora of words for you to read. If you have, then know that I’ve decided that www.myjoyenterprises.com receive some updates. Leave a comment if you’ve created something kind or something wacky with your string of 3 words to ignite your imagination.

We left off on p. 42, Chapter 8, where Cat gives several exercises for drawing what we see. Drawing with Tone and Contour Drawing is about softening the gaze and ‘looking’ at what is being drawn not for details, but for shades of color and the overall shape of the object. By seeing the shades of black to white and the type of lines that are drawn, we step back and observe the whole.

So often the focus in any art is on the details. Getting the eyes exactly right or the number of scales of the mermaid or just the right count in the measure to bring the song to the bridge or the chorus. There is something else to be seen by observing pieces of the whole but not the details. The shape of the face or eyes, the energy that the mermaid is expressing as she dives or surfaces, the feeling or improvisation that allows the musician to transition from one section of the song to the next offers a different perspective. Try backing away from a narrow focus and instead notice the tone, the shape of the line, or the emotion in the piece.

Sometimes, to shut the critic down, we need to do something unexpected. Try writing or drawing without looking at the paper or with your eyes closed. Attempt to write with your nondominant hand or even draw the object upside down! This gets us away from the details, away from trying to get it right, and asks the muse to come play. What would happen if we took a photograph with our eyes closed instead of the intense focus through the viewfinder? Could we use our sense of touch to ‘feel’ where to sculpt the wood or stone? What if we closed our eyes while stir frying and instead used our sense of smell? The censor would be stunned into silence.

If we began with simple objects and grew more complex, with how much more ease could we drop into the well of creativity when we picked up the charcoal with our dominant hand or focused the camera or ‘saw’ what the wood or stone could become? The variety of objects we use to inspire us, to model for us, gives way to how we feel about our art and how we feel about ourselves. Are we brave enough to draw a tree upside down? Do we trust our muse that what we point our camera at is worth capturing?

And perhaps that is what so much art is about: having the courage to express what we feel, what we see, how we interpret the world around us without fear of criticism or wondering if someone will question our truth. These exercises and more (which will be posted in my next blog) encourage our artist to step out of the shadow of the critic and to tap dance across our imagination. There is power in leaving fear behind and having the muse step into the spotlight, to be vulnerable and know that we’ll come out the other side in one piece. There is no other option if we are to tell our truth through our art.

Choose an exercise. Be daring. Express your truth in a way that stuns the censor and gives the muse a safe place to just be. www.myjoyenterprises.com is a site to visit to see what I’ve come up with when I’ve written with my nondominant hand or with my eyes closed. Leave a comment and let me know how it felt to draw a pear upside down or to cook with your eyes closed.

She states, “Close observation gives us the space and time for our perceptions about our subject to emerge with clarity and be felt. We come to know what we feel and think. We come to know ourselves.” As I’ve stated in previous blogs, artists are observers. That’s how we pick up how other people speak, their mannerisms, and how we can predict why they wear the clothes they do, and then use that fodder in our art. It is the smallest details that will sometimes make the difference for a reader or listener or audience member. So, as creative people, we play with how the tiny details fit together to construct the whole. Whether they are notes, words, brush strokes, seasonings, or graceful gestures with the fingers and hands, they all give information to the viewer about the artist, and when we, the artist, view our work, we come to understand ourselves and our perceptions of the world around us and how those perceptions define us. Take a look at what you’ve created, either recently or review your work for some time in the past. How has it changed? What was being expressed? Were you able to recognize a ‘phase’ you were going through? What conclusions can you draw about yourself as an artist based on your work?

“As artists we’re building our courage, and drawing can be a great teacher. It teaches us to look no matter what’s going on, and it uncovers all the shadowy, hidden places in our heart that want to come up into the light.” There are numerous professions for which creativity is a must: teaching, counseling, furniture making, photography, surgeon, engineer, politician. To generate ideas, to solve problems that are one of a kind or ones that no one has not come up against before, requires creativity, and thus, courage. Pushing this idea a bit further (those of us who follow the path of creativity into what most categorize as ‘artists’) what we bring into this plane is a part of ourselves. It takes great courage to not only follow the call, but to allow the muse to lead us from our safe place into that which we are greatly exposed. Not necessarily physically, although that can be the case, but where it matters most, emotionally, our ego laid out for all to see and criticize. At all costs, the ego protects itself, attempting to convince us it is in our own best interest to hide our talents, those parts of us that want to reach out from the depths of the blackened caves in our souls and seek the purifying light. We can create songs and dances and sculptures and pictures and meals and poems and stories about ‘others’, about a time and place different from now, and we can work really, really hard to keep ourselves hidden, protected, but then the art isn’t ‘good’. It’s fake and offers no one, us as the artist or anyone who might view our work, the beauty and glimpse of creation that it was meant to. Has your courage grown by delving into the creative world, by following your muse? Even if you’ve never shown anyone your work, just by basking in the free feeling of creativity, do you not feel more bold? If the answer is ‘no’, then why not? Perhaps you need to peek into those dark corners, honor those nuances of ourselves that are sometimes not so patiently wanting to come out. What would happen in you allowed one or two of them to crawl to the surface? Would you use different colors, or words, or ingredients?

“Drawing is a dynamic, ongoing enterprise. There’s no stopping place, just new explorations.” I love this quote! Substitute your medium for ‘drawing’. ‘Writing’ is dynamic, ‘cooking’ is dynamic, ‘dancing’ is dynamic, ‘painting’ is dynamic, ‘playing music’ is dynamic, ‘photography’ is dynamic, ‘sculpting’ is dynamic, yes and another yes! I’ve told my yoga students time and again that there is no perfect pose, and just by stepping onto their mat, they are on the road to the pose. Each time they move into and out of down dog or triangle pose, it is different, because it has never happened before in that moment. Maybe their hamstrings are a little looser, or tighter. Maybe the body asks for the arm to be extended overhead, or maybe not. Every moment is just one more opportunity to create, to explore. All of life is an ‘ongoing enterprise’. Raising children, building a career, writing a book, investing in a relationship, are all expressions of courageous ways to dive into who we are and share our expression in this life. The question remains, how are you dynamic? Are there places where you have become a little stale? A little stuck? A little unsure? Entice your muse to travel with you down those paths, either long forgotten or newly investigated. Bring your flashlight so the dark places don’t seem so scary, and tuck your courage under your arm, for to live a ‘dynamic’ life takes great courage. But then, why else are we here?

Cat then offers several exercises with which to play around with drawing. One is, “Drawing with Shapes”. Here she suggests using basic circles and squares and triangles and ovals to help build whatever it is we’re drawing, and also so we get the big picture before going into detail. If you’re a writer, this could mean beginning with a basic setting, nothing too detailed. A painter or sketch artist could actually make the shapes, or use the shapes to ‘outline’ whatever object is being created. A musician can set out the cords, a dancer the basic steps, a poet could plan the syllables or lines and stanzas or even write a ‘shape’ poem (this being either a poem about the shape or things that are a particular shape, or writing so the stanzas and lines come out to look like a certain shape).

“Drawing the Space Between” then is the opposite of “Drawing with Shapes”. Here Cat suggests drawing the spaces in between the shapes rather than the shapes themselves. “Observing how lines relate to each other and how one leads into another” would be a fun practice. It could go back to the observations that artists engage in, or it cold be the chance to look deeper. Notice how the lines in your drawing ‘make’ something, how the colors or shades of paint or chalk define the edges of objects. How does one dance move fit together with the next in the sequence? Do your scenes and events that happen to your characters lead the reader logically from point A to point B? How will you, or did you, fill in the little details to give the reader the experience you want them to have, to get the idea that you wanted them to obtain? Does the song you wrote fill in the spaces between the notes, or does your voice or the note of the instrument linger?

Pausing here until next week, I’ll invite you to investigate how well it is that you know yourself. What is your level of courage? How often do you partake in ‘explorations’? Have you invited any shadows to the surface, or have you ignored or battled them, pushing them back into the closet? Are you interested enough in the barely audible voice inside you that calls for you to be brave and bring forth that which is clawing, or tickling, to be released? Check out the activities and leave a comment if one works for you. Want to know my level of courage? Visit my website www.myjoyenterprises.com

1) Draw to music

2) Draw by touch

3) Draw with different materials

4) Draw with eyes closed

5) Draw slow/Draw fast

6) Doodle

I’ve posted before on using music. I like to listen to music where I don’t know the lyrics, otherwise I find myself singing along, and dancing, if I’m at home. There is nothing wrong with that, but it detracts from the time I use to write. Cat suggests that we play fast music and slow music, all different kinds of music that bring forth emotions, and then use those emotions to draw. It is the emotion of joy and connectedness that artists experience when the muse is called, and it answers. What brings us to the muse can be myriad emotions and feelings and experiences that we want to ‘get down’, whether that is on paper with words or paint or charcoal, or improvisation on an instrument, tossing in seldom used spices, or grabbing the camera and taking shots of objects that depict the emotion driving you to create in that moment. Try it out. See what music moves you to laughter, tears, anger, or to dance, and write it, draw it, sculpt it. Your choice as to what to do with it when you’re done.

Drawing by touch requires some interpretation. What words come to mind when a smooth rock is rolled in the hand, when the a silk scarf is twined loosely around the fingers then pulled away, or when the skin of an avocado is stroked? Can you put it into words? Draw it? Paint it, without it turning into the object? Cat suggests it’s a way of building our expressive tools. If the muse gives us the means by which to describe the sensation of touching that object, can we use colors or words or musical notes to express that? Maybe it will take a combination of notes and color, or words and a picture. How many different tactile (touch) sensations can you express?

Draw with different materials, Cat suggests, as a way to break out of ruts and experience where the play will take you. I think that is an important idea to remember. This is play, experimentation, messing around. The inner critic should be on hiatus. She gives examples of using different pens and chalks and charcoals, but I’ve suggested before to take it one step further. Use the branch of a tree, your shoelace, a cotton swab. Carve soap or a wine cork or a piece of foam. Photograph the inside of a pepper, an orange rind, a pile of dog food, the grooves of a key. Playing different instruments or using a variety of mediums not only to draw or paint or write with, but also to draw or paint or write on can create a very different experience. Check it out. Play with it. See where it takes you. It might open up doors for various expressions. Your muse might smile a little more.

Drawing with eyes closed is an unusual experience if you’ve never done it. I have my students write on big newsprint with their eyes closed. I give them hints on using their non-dominant hand on the edge of the paper so they know where they just wrote and can drop down a little before beginning the next line. It is freeing to close your eyes and write or draw or paint or dance or grab whatever your touch in your refrigerator to incorporate into a meal. In yoga, the first thing we do, or ask our students to do, is to close their eyes. By eliminating this sense, it helps to calm the mind, to settle the thoughts. It gets rid of so many distractions and allows the breath to flow evenly, slowly, bringing you to the present, which is the only place where we can create. The critic can’t often live without vision, so it has to sit in the corner, and that is the perfect time for the muse to step onto center stage.

Draw slow, draw fast. Write slow and watch the pen curve to make each letter. Begin to notice if the thoughts slow as well, if they wander, or if there is frustration. Then write fast. Can the ideas keep up? Do you run out of words? Or is it that your hand doesn’t move quickly enough to keep up with the thoughts? Can you write for a long time, always moving your hand, or do you need to stop frequently? How do you feel if you play your instrument slowly, holding each note as long as possible? Bored? Energetic? Sad? What happens if you play as fast as your fingers and breath can make the notes come out of the instrument? If you press the shutter button on your camera quickly as if taking action shots, or slowly, as someone walks down the sidewalk, what’s the difference? Does the camera miss the action? How quickly does the facial expression change on your subject?

Doodle. People who draw probably do this all the time. Those of us who write, might make lists or notes or jot ideas in a journal. Maybe we carry a sketch pad with us and begin to draw randomly while waiting in line at the bank or before a movie starts in a theater. Perhaps we pull out five ingredients and see what we can make with them. Judging shouldn’t enter the picture here. We’re just playing around, seeing where it takes us, observing how the images or words or movements make us feel. Maybe it turns into something more, maybe it just frees our hand and our eye and our thoughts. Cat Bennett suggests that by ‘making marks, we begin to see what matters to us’. All of these exercises are just that. Making marks, messing around, seeing if anything comes from it, noticing if something begins to talk to us, to push its way into our field of creativity where the muse is the coach and we’re just a player.

On my website www.myjoyenterprises.com I’ve given lots of examples of how I’ve played around, what I’ve created when I’ve just ‘made marks’. You may like some of it, you may not. That’s okay. I’ll invite you to look just the same. Poems and short stories and novels and even tips for writing are all there. Leave a comment if you’ve tried one of the above activities and share what you’ve discovered about your creative process.

1) Making marks frees our hand from the judgements of our mind and catapults us into the space of playfulness and presence . . . It trains the mind to let go. It trains us to just be and to see.

   I’ve commented on our inner critic numerous times. So often is it our own fear of judgement from others that we blame for not making our art public. Actually, it is the battlefield of our creativity, where one side is the ego with its criticisms and opinions about whether or not we are any good at all, and on the other end is our heart, tender and bruised from the careless stomping of the ego, critics, and perhaps well-meaning friends. Should we share our work with others, allow it to see the light of day? Return to the question of: for whom do you write? If the answer is that you write for yourself, then it is you engaged in a battle of wills with the ego, who perhaps has a near perfect record of wins. Decide if you create because you heed the soft, gentle whisperings of your muse and know that you are asked (sometimes prodded and shoved) to bring forth something that others need to see or read or hear or taste or feel. If this is your reason, then hush the ego and allow the muse to direct your hand. In my experience, it is only when I let go of all agendas, of time, of needing to control the flow and instead allow it to sweep me along, that what was trying to come through me can find its way. There is great joy to be discovered in present-moment creation, when we toss off the confines of how the art should show up.

   Think about the questions asked in the previous paragraph, and allow your answers to guide your hand or your eye or your feet. Keep asking, continue to create, back and forth until you arrive unequivocably at the point where it doesn’t matter if criticisms arise from within or are felt from outside yourself. Can you allow yourself to be fulfilled simply by playing with your muse and wholeheartedly investing in your art? If not, that’s okay. If you’re teetering, keep asking, continue to create.

2) Scribbling is hypnotic and freeing. The more we practice, the more we learn to slip into it with ease . . . We aren’t thinking a lot. Thought darts in, but leaves us just as quickly when we return to focus on what we’re doing. This is what yoga calls one-pointed focus; all of our attention is on our hand and what is emerging . . . We’re totally present in the moment.

   In an earlier post, I commented on all the places I have written. I’ve added more to the list since then, if only for the chance to practice the ability to slip away from judgement and into the place of now where there is only the pen and the paper and the direction of flow. I was recently asked if I have trouble writing sometimes or if I forget what I wanted to write. No on both counts, but for slightly different reasons. Because my muse speaks so loudly to me (probably due to my many years of ignoring it, it felt the need to use a megaphone on occasion) at certain times, and at other instances I’ve worked to quiet everything, inside and out, and waited, usually patiently, for the barest hint of the essence of my muse, that I can pick up where I’ve left off, even if it’s in the middle of a sentence a week later. How do I do this? Practice. I practice shutting out visual and auditory stimuli, so I write in crowed bars and restaurants and while waiting in line for the bathroom and at the beach. It doesn’t matter where I leave off, as when I write, what comes out is what is meant to be on the page.

   Try it out for yourself. Begin in your favorite place, and train your critic to sit and stay while you paint, write, compose, dance, photograph, cook, or sculpt. Then set a timer to interrupt yourself, or prearrange for a friend to phone you, mildly disrupting your creativity. How quickly can you return to where you left off, slipping away from the distraction and back into the present? Gradually begin to lengthen the time between your creative bouts (yes, I know I’ve written about consistent creativity, but this is a different exercise). A couple of hours to a day to a week. Can you return to the thread? Try finishing the chapter or the song or the painting (if you are taking pictures or cooking, you have a very small window here), and when you return, pick up the pen or the brush and decide if you would do something different, finish the chapter or the story or the write the last stanza any differently that you have already. This will help you discern if you can be comfortable with leaving something unfinished and trusting that whatever emerges when you return is what is supposed to be there. Is there a right way or a wrong way? No. This is just a suggestion for honing your focus and becoming more intimate with your creative process.

3) This magical moment occurs right in the midst of drawing and its creative intelligence at work, making order out of chaos . . . Both the artist and the viewer create meaning as they look at the marks and allow their own feeling to surface.

   This is something that I think everyone who partakes in creativity should remember: what the artist intended might be very different from what the viewer perceives. There is some responsibility of the artist to put something out there that has some order, that makes a bit of sense. Whether the one who views the piece will have the same experience or thoughts or feelings as the one who created it, we can hope. But it won’t be the exact same, as I’ve stated before, because everyone has their own filters through which they see the world, which is created by their experience.

   The “order out of chaos” I believe is the understanding that the artist gleans about themselves and what they see around them, as well as what the viewer recognizes in themselves or their environment. Have you spent much time pondering what ideas or thoughts or answers are offered to you when you create? If not, check it out. Are there “ah-ha” moments? Particular emotions that arise? Memories? Do you want your viewer to have the same experience?

4) In drawing, we can’t really hide. If we hide, it’s quite clear that we are doing so. Our presence or absence shows up on the page.

   And perhaps this is the crux of why so many artists choose to keep their work from the world: either they were absent in the creative process and believe their project to be a farce and that viewers will see it, or that they have revealed some or all of themselves and are terrified to be so exposed. All of creativity expresses some part of ourselves, and I do think that there is some part of us that lingers in everything that we create. We tell people our preferences, our history, our dreams by the words or notes or colors or perspectives that we use. It is impossible for me to hide during the creative process, and sometimes I’m a bit disgusted or amazed or driven to laughter at the pieces of me that I leave for the world to view, to judge, to love or to discard. But I’ve made the choice to be honest, open, for that is when the flow is least inhibited. Do you find yourself hiding? Do you think you are more truthful in your work than in other areas of your life? Is it more freeing to create than to engage in relationships? Which one contains more fear of judgement?

5)  . . . the simple practice of making marks catapults us instantaneously into total presence, oneness with the moment. It’s the place of peace and happiness. Drawing is yoga.

   Yoga suggests that if everyone wants happiness, it can only be found in the present. The past is gone and cannot be changed, and the future is yet unwritten. While we’re spending time in either place, worrying, concerned over how people have, or may, perceive us, what might happen and if we have any power over prevention or manifestation, we’re missing our connection with our muse. I’ve stated that it is impossible to connect with creativity unless one is in the now. This is where joy resides, and what are artistic endeavors besides a representation of the peace and love that exists only in the present and only when we recognize that our muse moves through us? And how do we approach our muse? By “making marks”, whether that is a squiggly line, a few words, a measure or two of notes, a brush stroke, a shuffle and tap of with a foot, a gathering of ingredients, or the first click of the shutter. We begin simply, with no agenda, no perceived outcomes. I don’t know if the play comes and then the now, or it is the other way around. What I do know is that once it starts, it has a life of its own, and I willfully join in the ride. Why? Because I, like all of you, want to be happy now.

   Unsure as to whether or not you’d like to share your work? Take a look at mine at www.myjoyenterprises.com I began simply. I made a few marks. I’ve come to understand my muse and myself and how to quiet the ego and bring myself to now. Please leave a comment on techniques that are successful for you.