BEHIND THE BLOG

As writer, teacher, jewelry-maker and everyday woman, I'm fascinated by the ways that clarity and clutter shape creative lives. To me, the question of how much stuff we have is far less important than how much time, freedom and focus we can bring to our creative efforts. Sure, sometimes clutter manifests tangibly, as supplies, possessions, or mementos. But just as often it appears in less physical (but no less powerful) forms: as distractions, drains, obligations, expectations, judgments, and fears that leave us no time or energy to make art or even dream dreams. My first "DeClutter Your Creativity" classes were inspired by my own personal struggle to find the balance of abundance and emptiness needed to fuel my work...and to find it again, and again, and again as my life and work evolve. This blog is another way to dialogue on the subject: written with curiosity, compassion and (sometimes) comedy from the often befuddling place where creativity and clutter meet.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

THE STILL AND SOULFUL CENTER

In my recent STUFF AND SCHEDULES post I wrote that decluttering our stuff doesn’t do much good for our creativity unless we also declutter our schedules.

I recently found an image that captures (at least for me) the difference between the feeling of a cluttered schedule, and the feeling of a purposeful one.

It comes from the late Henri Nouwen, a priest, professor, and wonderful writer. Nouwen's work spoke (among many other things) of the wounded healer, the person who can lead and nurture others precisely because he or she is human and flawed.

About time and our use of it, he wrote "being busy is like being on the outside of the wheel—you go up and down and around all the time. If you are centered, you are in the hub of the wheel. It takes much less energy.”

Like so many Americans, I find myself on the outside of the wheel quite a bit. Lots of movement; sometimes, but definitely not always, lots of impact; and lots of tiredness in the aftermath.

Once every day or even just once a week, stop to ask yourself if you’ve just bit whirling frantically at the rim of the wheel, or quiet—yet still moving forward at exactly the same speed—at the hub.

No comments:

Post a Comment