My Mind is an Anarchist

§ July 12th, 2010 § Filed under creativity, writing § Tagged creativity, writing § 9 Comments

I always knew in my heart that I needed to do creative things in order to make sense of my place in the world. I suspected that I needed creativity in my job, too, as I always relished the creative aspects of what I was doing more than the more ‘orderly’ ones. The ‘orderly’ bits were just for surviving and the creative bits were for living. Some of us just have more of a need to nurture the creative bits in life than others and it can cause problems.

Last year I made the move from my partially creative career, to an entirely creative one. Hooray for me! I can be creative all day long. Well, guess what? Using creativity is very different than being a creative thinker. I love the fact that I can use the right side of my brain, but I didn’t know that my right side would be so moody and averse to demand. I tell it we need to write this thing by such-and-such a date and, cheekily, it refuses! It doesn’t like that rule, the one about deadlines. In fact, my right brain doesn’t believe in rules at all. It prefers to be creative and busy at night and sleep during the daytime. Dare I indulge it? Dare I change my entire life to the opposite of what the world does just to make my right brain happy and content? Well, I’d love to do that for you, right brain, really I would but there are things that stand in the way of your little plan to have me all to yourself like my relationship and the idea that I might want to meet up with friends now and then.

I need to work out a way to tame the creative beast that dwells in my top two inches.

I know what you are thinking. Don’t even say it. Don’t go to the ‘d’ word. I’ve felt guilty my whole life for not being disciplined enough. But, I’m over that now. The new creative worker-me doesn’t believe that word applies to everyone. I’m supposed to be creative, right? I don’t need that convention. I just need to find a creative solution to the problem. Or is that my right brain talking again? Stupid anarchist.

I sort of hope that this is all a part of the settling in business. I’m still pretty new at this game and I’m optimistically thinking that it will all pan out and my right brain will eventually let go and let me do creative things whenever I wish rather than just the hours of 7am-10.30 and 5pm onward. I’m hoping that if I just keep forcing my brain to write in the un-writey times that it will eventually just give in and let that daytime writing change from mundane to inspired. I need to shift the way my brain sees time. I need to give my myself creative jet lag.

I started thinking about this when I read a post by Leo Babauta at Zen Habits about The No. 1 Habit of Highly Creative People. I agree with what he says about solitude and creativity, but I realised that it’s not the creative thinking that is a problem. My mind is seemingly always in that place. It’s the production aspect. How do I get those creative thoughts out of the space in my head and on to the ‘paper’ at time when my anarchic mind does not want to cooperate?

What do other writers do? Are there any tricks of the trade I’m missing here? Do most people write only during creative times or are they able to do it when they need to.

Remembering the little things to remember myself

§ November 1st, 2009 § Filed under creativity, meditation, remembering myself, slowing down, stress § No Comments

It’s been a crazy week and I can’t believe it’s Friday. You know things are hectic when you go to bed on Monday night and then suddenly realise the week is over. It’s easy to forget yourself. My husband and I moved to New Zealand 10 years ago and after a few years abroad in Vietnam and Japan we realised that New Zealand was calling us back. We missed the green and the fresh air, and the more relaxed lifestyle that doesn’t happen in Japan and Saigon where life is quite full-on most of the time. Time to come home and start living at a healthy pace again. However…

A couple of days ago I read and commented on David Miller’s article about raising chickens and it got me thinking about how, in the craziness of re-settling it’s like my husband and I have forgotten why we came back. We spend our days rushing round to work, on errands, getting the shopping in, doing washing (Well, OK, he does most of the washing.) and pretty much occupying our time with thinking about the next jobs we’ve got to do. So, what the hell? I mean, we’re living a Japanese style life right here in New Zealand.

I have this old photo of a tree covering our room in a guest house in Malaysia. A severe storm had passed through during the night and when we woke up, we had to remove this bloody tree that had been strewn across our entrance in order to get out. After all the hard work, we settled in to breakfast at a local cafe and then on our way back into the room we noticed a hornet on the wall outside. We only noticed it because we could actually hear it crunching. Loudly! We both stood there mesmerised by this hornet crunching on the wall and then spitting it up in order to make its nest. After about 5 minutes of this we decided to get comfortable. We pulled a couple of stools out of the room and sat ther for no less than 45 minutes watching this little thing work. It’s the kind of situation that you emerge from feeling like you’ve had a nap. You are aware that your blood pressure has gone down and there is a clarity in you thinking.

Why did I write this? Well, that’s where I want to be. Back in that mindspace where time is elastic and the smallest things encompass the brain to the point that you realise all this stuff we occupy ourselves with is not necessarily what we need. I want to regain a clarity of thought and a relaxed feeling about life. I know me. I know I get this from meditation or creativity.

This afternoon I’m leaving my computer and all the stuff in the house behind to take some closeup photos. Then, when I get home, I’m going to find that photo of the guesthouse room with the tree covering it to remind me that what I can’t see is the little hornet that taught me how to return to myself.