My resistance has been loud lately. I’ve been buried deep inside of hundreds of pages of final edits for my novel, engaging with a huge world-building document about the magic systems, lands, and people at the center of the novel's conflict. There hasn’t been much room left for music.
And yet… music is such a central part of the emotional architecture of any culture.
What’s helping me keep going this week is the gracious gift of inspiration and check-ins with Marko, who holds space for me to engage with him in the spiritual conversation of making music.
What helps me return to my specific art practice commitment each day is the accountability of this group! And the fact that I haven’t missed a day yet. I feel like if I miss even one day, then that will make it easy to skip more days. That being said, I don’t want to be hard on myself if I do ever miss a day.
My idea for a small ritual that could make showing up easier is to dance to a song right before writing. I’m trying to dance everyday anyway, so this could be a fun way to do habit stacking.
I'm grateful for this post! There's so much pressure in our society to conform to timelines of supposed success, and since I have never achieved any of these timelines, I need reminders like yours to keep me centered. Here's to the wisdom of age and the timelessness of clarity!
Sometimes it takes me a while to get a wood working project clear in my head. So, instead of making sawdust and scrap pieces I just day dream for a bit and see what happens. I call my shop; Serendipity Woodworks.
What most often pulls me away from my art practice is not a lack of interest, but the abundance of other interesting and enjoyable things competing for my attention. Starting is usually not the hardest part. I can feel excited by a new idea and begin with a lot of energy. The real challenge comes later, when the work becomes difficult, uncertain, or less immediately rewarding.
What helps me return is remembering that resistance is often part of the practice, not evidence that I should stop. I am learning to come back without waiting to feel inspired and to give the work even a small amount of focused time. Continuing through the difficult parts is how the project begins to deepen and reveal what it can become.
I've kept up with my commitment of making music every day. Yesterday I dropped off my instrument for a tune up before leaving town this afternoon (I travel light with just a backpack, so no instruments tagging along.) So, this morning as I drove back from yoga, I belted out some ABBA in the car. 😁
My Secret Garden Practice is built on top of my “morning” pages practice, so that helps me return to it every day. My biggest struggle has been selecting and starting the story because I want to tell it well (even if my handwriting is illegible), and so I pause hesitate.
But it has been the realization that this practice is less about telling a story well, but simply telling it. Building up my story bank that I can return to , take the seeds out, water them, and see what takes form.
This one is called the strawberries:
I had been caught red handed and probably red faced, but not really sure as I was not particularly old (maybe 6). I’m sitting on the counter in my Aunt’s kitchen, and I am on my way through my third basket of strawberries (back when they came in those little green plastic baskets). I don’t recall if it was my aunt that caught me or one of my cousins, but I think it was my aunt who yelled out “MARY!” I continued to sit on the counter, happy as a clam, as I finished the third basket and reached into the crate of 12 for my fourth.I was completely oblivious to the fact that I might have done something wrong, simply enjoying the delicious strawberries.
At that point my mom swooped in, scooped me off the counter and gave me the full first -middle-last name treatment. In the end it became a family joke (especially since I was the youngest of all the cousins). And to this day I still love strawberries, but I don’t think I have even eaten 3+ baskets in a single sitting since.
My Secret Garden practice:
My resistance has been loud lately. I’ve been buried deep inside of hundreds of pages of final edits for my novel, engaging with a huge world-building document about the magic systems, lands, and people at the center of the novel's conflict. There hasn’t been much room left for music.
And yet… music is such a central part of the emotional architecture of any culture.
What’s helping me keep going this week is the gracious gift of inspiration and check-ins with Marko, who holds space for me to engage with him in the spiritual conversation of making music.
I love that imagery of growing new antlers each season. 💚🫎
💚💚💚💚💚
What helps me return to my specific art practice commitment each day is the accountability of this group! And the fact that I haven’t missed a day yet. I feel like if I miss even one day, then that will make it easy to skip more days. That being said, I don’t want to be hard on myself if I do ever miss a day.
My idea for a small ritual that could make showing up easier is to dance to a song right before writing. I’m trying to dance everyday anyway, so this could be a fun way to do habit stacking.
You haven’t missed a day yet!! That’s incredible! Celebrate!
And no need to prepare for missing. You’ll be kind to yourself if that has to happen, but a dance party is in order! Before or after writing 🥰
100% agree with the "haven't misses a day" as a good pressure to stay consistent.
I'm grateful for this post! There's so much pressure in our society to conform to timelines of supposed success, and since I have never achieved any of these timelines, I need reminders like yours to keep me centered. Here's to the wisdom of age and the timelessness of clarity!
To the clarity 🥂
Sometimes it takes me a while to get a wood working project clear in my head. So, instead of making sawdust and scrap pieces I just day dream for a bit and see what happens. I call my shop; Serendipity Woodworks.
Serendipity Woodworks. I love it!!! Thank you so much for joining us here. I look forward to getting to know you and your work :)
That is a brilliant name!
What most often pulls me away from my art practice is not a lack of interest, but the abundance of other interesting and enjoyable things competing for my attention. Starting is usually not the hardest part. I can feel excited by a new idea and begin with a lot of energy. The real challenge comes later, when the work becomes difficult, uncertain, or less immediately rewarding.
What helps me return is remembering that resistance is often part of the practice, not evidence that I should stop. I am learning to come back without waiting to feel inspired and to give the work even a small amount of focused time. Continuing through the difficult parts is how the project begins to deepen and reveal what it can become.
Love this! And so aptly put! Yes! When the project deepens, we have access to the flow state and it becomes so much more enjoyable!
I've kept up with my commitment of making music every day. Yesterday I dropped off my instrument for a tune up before leaving town this afternoon (I travel light with just a backpack, so no instruments tagging along.) So, this morning as I drove back from yoga, I belted out some ABBA in the car. 😁
ABBA! I want to hear that!! We must make music together!
Yes!! That will be so fun!
ABBA is absolutely for belting out!!
YESSSS it is!!! 😁
My Secret Garden Practice is built on top of my “morning” pages practice, so that helps me return to it every day. My biggest struggle has been selecting and starting the story because I want to tell it well (even if my handwriting is illegible), and so I pause hesitate.
But it has been the realization that this practice is less about telling a story well, but simply telling it. Building up my story bank that I can return to , take the seeds out, water them, and see what takes form.
This one is called the strawberries:
I had been caught red handed and probably red faced, but not really sure as I was not particularly old (maybe 6). I’m sitting on the counter in my Aunt’s kitchen, and I am on my way through my third basket of strawberries (back when they came in those little green plastic baskets). I don’t recall if it was my aunt that caught me or one of my cousins, but I think it was my aunt who yelled out “MARY!” I continued to sit on the counter, happy as a clam, as I finished the third basket and reached into the crate of 12 for my fourth.I was completely oblivious to the fact that I might have done something wrong, simply enjoying the delicious strawberries.
At that point my mom swooped in, scooped me off the counter and gave me the full first -middle-last name treatment. In the end it became a family joke (especially since I was the youngest of all the cousins). And to this day I still love strawberries, but I don’t think I have even eaten 3+ baskets in a single sitting since.
Lovely piece, Michelle.
Thank you so much, Larry.