Trust or Bust

In "Trust or Bust," a chapter in Danny Gregory's The Creative License, he discusses Keith Jarrett and his 1975 album, The Koln Concerts, an album that Gregory calls the "best-selling solo piano album ever."

"What's extraordinary," writes Gegory, "was that the music on the album is purely improvised."

If you want to learn to improvise, to reach that place where you are totally immersed in the present moment, Gregory suggests you have to learn how to "quiet down, clear the crap, and trust."

"When Jarrett improvises" writes Gregory, "he allows the performance to be a distillation of who he is and what he knows. He says you have to assume that what you are doing is meaningless, to be willing to toss it away. You can't think that what you are making will be recorded, sold, reviewed, even listened to. Just do it and see what happens."

But sometimes we're afraid of just letting go and seeing what happens.

And that's often because we're afraid of making mistakes.

But, as Gregory asks in an earlier chapter ("Celebrate Your Mistakes"), "what is 'a mistake' really?"

Isn't it just an outcome you hadn't anticipated? A variation from your expectation? And what made you right before (when you set up your expectations) but not during (when you drew your lines)?

So the real questions are:

What goes into your expectations? What's wrong with an unexpected outcome? What if you had tried to achieve it in the first place? What if you actually set out to draw whatever lopsided mess you are chastising yourself for? Could you have? Could you have purposefully created this mistake?

And beyond: Have you been able to survive the most horrendous mistakes of your past? Should a mistake or fear of a mistake prevent you from reaching your goal? Can you expand your mind to deal with the unexpected? What would life be like without mistakes? Without gravity? Without evolution?

Not only does Gregory offer advice on how to deal with your inner critic, he offers questions that can help you gain perspective on your work and the risks such work requires.

Although The Creative License is designed for artists, many writers can benefit from Gregory's wisdom on creativity and his insights into how to sustain one's creative vision over the course of a life-time.

Here's what the Table of Contents offers:

1. Drawing: Kick-starting your creativity and learning to see
2 Journaling: Making creativity into a habit
3. Shock: Blasting your butt out of a rut
4. Sensitization: Re-connecting with reality
5. Resistance: Winning the fight to go on
6. Judgment: From enemy to ally
7. Identity: Who you are and why that's fine
8. Expanding: Broadening your creativity
9. Next: Creativity in the real world

Anyway, you don't have to want to draw to find worthwhile advice in this book. You just have to want to create, and Gregory will help you open your eyes to the creative sparks that dwell within you.

For more information on Gregory and his work, visit his website: http://www.dannygregory.com/

For an interview with Gregory, visit:
http://litpark.com/2006/10/25/danny-gregory/

The Sound of Water Laughing

If you've ever closed your eyes beside a rippling brook and listened to the water careening over stones and pebbles, you may have heard the sound of water laughing.

When was the last time you listened for the sound of laughter and took a break from the serious side of your writing practice?

What if today--right now--you drop your stubborn defenses and simply laugh at the challenges that are frustrating you?

Instead of knocking your head against the wall in search of a solution, try to imagine looking at the wall and dancing with the shadow that your body makes on it, pretending that it's not a wall at all but a partner in the mystery of creation.

Instead of struggling with words, play with them.

And rather than find frustration in the gaps that still remain in your stories, take joy in the daily process of discovering the story itself.

Leap beyond the routines of an ordinary workday... and do something different for a change, something that might bring a looser, more relaxed approach to your work.

If you can listen to the sound of water laughing, you may find yourself with a completely different perspective.

You may find the plot that you think is going one way... is really going somewhere else.

Or that a character who seems kind-hearted and sweet is really a horror.

You may find a different point of view

Or another voice.

Who knows what you may find until you leave the seriousness aside for a while and simply play at your desk ... or in the backyard... or at the beach... or ... anywhere but the place where you usually do your work?

Who says that you can write only one way?

Or work on only one story at a time?

Or think about that story in only one way?

You can choose how you want to work... and which stories you want to work on.

Sometimes the simple sound of water laughing reminds us that we can step out of our routines and follow a different path.

And sometimes that different path may lead to new and unexpected ways of seeing ourselves ... and our stories.

For more on laughter and creativity, visit these online resources:

http://www.sharedpaths.com/relaxation/relaxation3.html
http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1175/is_v21/ai_5128068
http://www.holisticonline.com/Humor_Therapy/humor_therapy_laugh-your-way.htm
http://www.absolutewrite.com/novels/boost_creativity.htm

Streams of Silence

"I have discovered that all of our unhappiness derives from one single source--not being able to sit quietly in a room."--Blaise Pascal, 17th century French philospher

How do you respond to streams of silence in your writing life?

Does silence feel like a wall that keeps you from getting at words, a barrier standing in the way of your stories?

Or is silence more like a blank canvas waiting for colors, or, perhaps, like the pause before an orchestra bursts into a cacophony of sound?

On my pre-dawn strolls, ambling past dark houses and star-lit lakes before the date palm trees and longleaf pines stand out like India-ink silhouettes against the reddish horizon, I feel as if I can swim in silence forever.

But less than an hour later, sitting at my desk to write, the silence is a painful reminder of what I don't know, and it takes all of my inner-strength to remain in my chair and not bolt for another cup of coffee or reach for the phone or flick on the radio to keep from drowning in silence.

It's strange how silence can feel so liberating on my walks ... yet so isolating when I'm staring at a blank screen or piece of paper, alone at my desk, waiting for words.

Silence can feel at times as thick and impenetrable as the walls of a prison cell.

What writer hasn't felt this silence like an enormous weight pressing down on his or her chest...a painful reminder of his isolation, a thick fog cutting her off from the rest of the world?

"Silence," writes Christina Feldman in Silence: How to Find Inner Peace in a Busy World, "can be both heaven and hell."

Feldman offers important insights into the nature of silence that can benefit writers as we struggle in our own streams of silence.

How we respond to silence, she suggests, can determine how each of us gains access (or fails to gain access) to our inner worlds.

"Silence is a way of being deeply honest with ourselves," writes Feldman. "We long for this inner wholeness and self-understanding, yet fear being overwhelmed by the fears and uncertainties that may be revealed within us. We fear that silence may open the door to insecurities that we have locked away throughout our lives."

What is it about silence that we fear?

Perhaps in our minds silence means that we have nothing to say. (And if that's true, if we have nothing to say, then perhaps in silence, without words to rescue us, we fear our own worthlessness?)

Or perhaps silence reminds us of times when whatever words we used to fill the silence were not heard or valued.

Or it might raise long-buried memories of what we learned (long ago) that we could not say and what we feel we are (still) not permitted to say?

It requires enormous courage to face silence, according to Feldman.

For some, she notes, silence means invisibility and recalls memories of childhood when speaking without permission may have been cause for punishment.

Silence may prove dangerous to face for many of us precisely because of these hidden memories, suggests Feldman. Yet she encourages us to enter into silence to find words.

It's our inner silence, Feldman writes, that empowers us to speak the truths that need to be spoken.

She encourages us to explore the unknown silence and, most importantly, to learn from it.

On this morning's walk, as the sky lightened and a reddish glow appeared in the east, I became aware of sounds: the chirp of crickets; the call of a mockingbird; the hum of an air-conditioner; the distant thrumming of car tires on I-75; the scrape of my sneakers on the sidewalk; the simple sound of taking in a breath and releasing it.

These sounds within the silence reminded me of Feldman's observation:

"In silence we are present with just what this moment offers and are invited to explore the richness of that invitation. We also come to realize how, for much of our time, we have grown accustomed to living in the past or the future, seeking for something we have so far been unable to find in the present."

Now, facing the day's silence at my desk, I want to understand what it is about silence that makes me uncomfortable and how I might "explore the richness of that invitation."

Today I want to accept silence's invitation, and, little by little, learn to stay at my desk in the moment, listening to what silence may reveal.

What can you learn from the streams of silence in your writing life?

How can you embrace what you don't know... and learn from it?

For more information about Christina Feldman and Silence: How to Find Inner Peace in a Busy World, check out: http://www.rodmellpress.com/silence_author.html

For an excerpt from her article on "Stillness and Insight," check out: http://www.dharma.org/ij/archives/2001b/cf_still.htm

Other resources on silence and creativity:

Charlotte Bell on "The Music of Silence": http://72.14.209.104/search?q=cache:wHFbjnSAcK4J:www.nyspirit.com/yoga_guide/Silence.pdf+silence+and+creativity&hl=en&gl=us&ct=clnk&cd=48&client=firefox-a

Fred Pfeil on the "Silence Between the Words": http://www.trincoll.edu/depts/writcent/115Vernon2004_24.htm

Spiritual Practices--Silence: http://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/practices/practices.php?id=28&g=6

Treading Water

It can feel frustrating when you're not swimming in any direction, just treading water.

You might think that you should be accumulating pages or making headway in a story or discovering something new about a character or plot.

When that doesn't happen...and you no longer feel as if you're moving forward...you can begin to feel that you'll never move forward again.

Worse, if there's no forward motion, it must mean that you're moving backward, right?

And then, if you're like me, you might start to worry that you've lost all the months of work that were necessary to get to this point in a story.

But, lately, I've started thinking about treading water in a different light.

What if treading water isn't a stopping point of frustration, a failure to move forward, but a different kind of swimming?

A rest-stop on a long journey?

A respite?

A chance to take a breath and re-charge before going further?

What if treading water is like reaching a plateau on a mountainous climb?

If I can stop worrying for a moment about where I'm heading, I might be able to see this plateau as a place that I've worked hard to reach.

Simply by treading water, I can rest and look back over the distance that I've come to reach this point.

Sometimes, in order to go forward, we have to stop driving ourselves so hard.

We have to stop pushing before the wall blocking our path disappears... and a new road opens.

Part of the creative process, I suspect, requires these respites, these pauses.

What's scary is that we can't always plan for them.... and when they hit us out of the blue, they can have a chilling effect, like a sudden squall or thunderstorm that upsets our rhythm.

Rather than fight these temporary lulls in our writing, though, perhaps we can use them as opportunities to listen to our inner teacher.

What is your body telling you to do?

What do you hear in your heart?

Treading water can serve as a way for us to more fully experience where we've come from... and to understand where we're going.

Try shifting your perspective, even slightly, and see if you find yourself more buoyant after treading water, ready to swim off with renewed energy in a new direction.

For more insights into rest and creativity, check out these resources:

http://www.exploringcreativity.com/e_rest.html
http://www.jenniferlouden.com/writing-smpls/nurturing.htm
http://graphicdesign.about.com/od/creativity/a/buronout.htm
http://www.creativegroup.com/Dispatcher?file=/TCG/Feature0600_2
http://www.illumine.co.uk/hints-creativity.htm
http://www.yogagroup.org/relax.html

Special thanks to Jaye Martin, an instructor at Garden of the Heart Yoga Studio, for sharing his insights into reaching plateaus and viewing them in a positive light.

Sacred Circles.

You know how a pebble tossed into a quiet pool will send out circles across the surface of the water?

Writing sometimes feels like tossing a pebble... even if we can't always see the circles that it sends out ... or the people whose lives are touched by those circles.

It was this summer while exploring the University of British Columbia's Anthropology Museum in Vancouver, with its extensive collection of original wood carvings, totem poles, and weavings of First Nation artists, that I began to understand those circles in a new way.

Many of the works of art in the museum reflect the Pacific Northwest's quiet beauty, as well as the deep respect and spiritual relationship that the artists hold for the land and the animals with whom they share the land.

Indeed, there is a spirit of sharing that permeates the First Nation culture.

Of a land giving to its people... and a people giving to its land... in a kind of sacred circle.

At the museum, I listened to William White, a Tsimshian artist, describe the art of Chilkat weaving in a videotape entitled, Gwishalaayt: The Spirit Wraps Around You.

White spoke of the process of weaving the blankets that his tribesmen used in sacred ceremonies as another kind of circle.

The vision for the blanket's pattern, the idea of the work itself, originates in his mind, he said.

Then he sees the work take shape as his hands and fingers work the threads into the patterns that his mind sees.

Soon the feeling in his fingers travels to his heart... and from his heart it returns to his hands... and his hands work the loom. And he feels as if he has become the loom.

And when he sees what his hands are doing, the image returns to his mind.

And the circle is complete... a process that he refers to as wrapping himself in a sacred blanket...linking himself with his ancestors and the future members of his tribe who will use his weaving as they dance in their ritual ceremony.

His words made a deep impression on me as I stood watching his hands weaving the colorful threads together.

And his insights into his process as a weaver revealed how artists from different paths--writers, painters, sculptors, photographers, all of us--might share the same process of making circles, even though we may use different tools and media.

Now when I write--even though I'm thousands of miles from the Pacific Northwest's still waters and mist-shrouded islands--I hear William White's voice, and I feel as if I'm weaving a sacred blanket out of words for future readers to wrap themselves in.

Each time I set down a word, it's like tossing another pebble into the water, casting out another ripple, not knowing who the ripples may touch.

Each circle may be invisible, but that doesn't matter. The circles are there, spreading outward, wrapping each of us in a sacred blanket.

(For more information about Gwishalaayt: The Spirit Wraps Around You, see Barb Cranmer, Nimpkish Wind Productions, at http://www.movingimages.ca/catalogue/Art/Art_gq.html or the website for the First Nations at http://www.firstnationsdrum.com/Sum2001/Cult-Gwish.htm)