Do you, though? Do you have to explain? Right now?
Vital, irreplaceable energy is expended in the act of explaining, and especially so in explaining too soon. Canadian author and painter Robert Genn observes: Your own words can steal the thunder of your idea more easily than the negativity of others.
The rush and even a palpable urgency to get fresh creative work out on social media, to invite everyone into one’s own creative process as it’s on its way to becoming, has been the unquestioned standard practice for some time. Artists well-served by this approach describe the generous climate of community afforded by IG and other creative platforms, along with the warm feelings of support found in these spaces where it’s become possible, in Lynda Barry’s words, to do this thing alone together. Too, there’s the tactical, instructional, information-sharing supports made readily available, i.e. How do I protect my watercolor paintings from UV damage? And the exposure and reach for sharing one’s creative work with the world has been a game-changer on virtually every front.
I’m less convinced, though, that the press to be public, especially in the early stages of the creative process, serves all makers. I know of a number of practicing artists, and have read about many more, who go to almost any length to protect that precious arena of initial creative incubation, that private domain of curiosity and imagination that these makers feel is best inhabited alone.
We’re all hungry hunters, active participants in this mysterious, astonishing life, all of us hard-wired to be captured by enchanting curiosities, to find ourselves irresistibly drawn to those singular mysteries and fascinations that hold as-yet-not-fully-understood significance for us. We find ourselves drawn though we’re not always sure why at the start. An enlivening process in its own right, this inner summons for some of us needs protection now, in a noisy world that can place greater importance on influencing and collecting followers than that more vital task of following one’s inner creative Northstar.
We live in a time of the dissected soul, the immediate disclosure: our thoughts, imaginings and longings exposed to the light much too early and too often; our best qualities squeezed too soon into a world already awash with ideas that oppress our sense of self and our sense of others. What is real is almost always, to begin with, hidden, and does not want to be understood by the part of our mind that mistakenly thinks it knows what is happening. What is precious inside us does not care to be known by the mind in ways that diminish its presence.
~ David Whyte, in Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment, and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words
The energy, vitality, and aliveness that propels the very forces of nature come to life within us, too, made accessible through the quietest of curiosities, these “infinitesimal specks of the celestial,” as Anne Lamott describes them, these “quiet miracles,” John O’Donohue notes, “that call no attention to themselves,” if only we’re awake enough to notice, to feel that irresistible fascination, to sense that deep pull and then to follow, all of which can happen in the quietest of ways, far from the madding crowd.
If I succeed in avoiding the hungry, glistening square eye of the phone for at least the first portion of a day, my thoughts feel unhurried, more gentle, more structured, smoother at the edges and more weighted towards the useful, the interesting, the productive, the creative-without-conflict, the settled sort of dreaming. I like the thoughts and ideas I have if I have steered clear of Other People’s Thoughts—how can a person end up anywhere personal and centered first thing in the morning if they’ve listened or read or scrolled at high speed past a thousand stranger-thoughts before they’ve even had a moment to think a single one of their own?
~ Ella Frances Sanders
These curiosities and their invitation to listen closely and then to follow, are the calling card of the true self, the uncurated self that in these moments of activated fascination and wonderment neither can nor cares to trade the impending adventure for any sort of obligation as to what one’s followers may want.
True solitude is found in the wild places, where one is without human obligation. One’s inner voices become audible. One feels the attraction of one’s most intimate sources.
~ Wendell Berry
Heeding the call of one’s own true self is the quintessential followership worth preserving at any cost. Yet how can we attend to the call of the true self against a backdrop that favors the followers—What do the followers want?
In what is perhaps the human version of the Heisenberg Principle, we change a bit, and sometimes dramatically, when we’re being watched, as compared to the unmitigated freedom afforded by those places and spaces in which we’re alone, really alone, without the burden of having to prematurely share any thoughts or instructions, without having to do any sort of persuasion or convincing.
When the followers want what your own true self wants, you’ve landed on the sweet spot, the zone, you’re in the flow, on your way. Too often, though, following the followers can lead too many too far from home.
There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide you will ever have. And if you cannot hear it, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls.
~ Howard Thurman
In a world filled with influencers, there’s only one who’s worthy of full possession of you.
We can ignore the call of the soul and still have a fulfilling life, or we can heed its wisdom and experience times of deep joy and contentment. While we go through that process, home remains, whether in our hearts or in reality, the place of security and nurturance necessary for our psyche. It remains the envelope into which we retreat for privacy and intimacy, which reflects who we are as individuals and as members of society; that is essential for our well-being. But it may not be enough. The garden may beckon us also, or the wilderness, the ocean, the landscape, wildlife. We must heed that call too, for deep within it, the soul is asking for attention.
~ Claire Cooper Marcus, House as a Mirror of Self
THE WELL WITHIN WORKSHOP 