by Heather Plett | Nov 17, 2011 | art, Beauty, Creativity, writing
I finished the first draft of my memoir in the Spring. The writing flowed freely and quickly, mostly because it was a story that had been simmering and growing for more than ten years since my son Matthew died and then was born.
Once I had about 60,000 words and it felt like I’d reached the end, I set it aside for a couple of months so that I could return with fresh perspective.
But then… every time I tried to return to it, I felt stuck. “Re-writer’s block” you might call it. I knew it needed work, but I didn’t know where to start. I knew I was losing the thread in parts, but I didn’t have a clear enough sense of what the thread was to fix the places where it was broken. Every time I’d come to the page, I’d do a little tweaking here and there, knowing full well that it needed more of an overhaul than a tweak.
Finally, in mid-October, I felt ready to put some serious work into it.
My return to it started in a roundabout way. First I cleaned my studio. Call it a metaphor… “clearing space, clearing mind”. Once there was space for my creativity to blossom again, suddenly I found myself eager to return to the page.
I got back into it and started doing some deeper editing than I’d done before, re-arranging ideas and playing with threads. But something told me I still wasn’t going deeply enough. The primary thread still looked blurry.
That’s when I knew it was time to step away from words and let colour and play do their magic.
I picked up my coloured markers, made space on the floor for a large piece of posterboard, and got busy. Before long, I had the beginnings of a question mandala on the page. Over the next few days, whenever I could find a few minutes of spare time, I’d disappear into my studio, grab my markers, and add a few new elements to the design. I think it’s complete now.
And guess what? I’m unstuck! I found the thread for my book and I know how to weave it more strongly through the weak places! I’ve already begun to rewrite it, and my new goal is to have the next draft completed by the end of 2011.
In case you’re stuck in some project, here’s a bit more information about my process:
What’s a question mandala? A mandala is a circular art form that is common in Eastern religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism. It is considered sacred art and is used as a form of meditation and spiritual discipline and awakening. In Jungian psychology, mandalas are seen as representations of the unconscious self and as a way to work toward wholeness in personality.
To create a mandala, you start at the centre and move out to the edges. Different traditions have different meanings and rituals involved in mandala design. In Tibetan mandalas, for example, there is generally a square in the centre (the palace or temple) with four doors (symbolizing the bringing together of the four boundless thoughts namely – loving kindness, compassion, sympathy, and equanimity), surrounded by three concentric circles (representing the spiritual birth, the awakening and the knowledge).
Some mandalas are very symmetrical and follow “sacred geometry”, while others simply look like free-flowing art in the form of a circle.
For me, mandalas are free-flowing (yet generally fairly symmetrical) and I don’t attach meaning to any particular shape. I simply allow things to evolve as the mandala grows. In recent mandalas, I’ve begun to incorporate questions and words as they come to me, as in my Occupy Love mandala and this most recent mandala (at the top of the page).
How does a mandala “work”? First of all, it’s important to remember that a mandala is not a means to an end. Yes, I used it to help me get unstuck, but I didn’t sit down with a specific problem in mind and expect the mandala to resolve it for me. A mandala, like any form of meditation, is meant to help us step away from our thoughts, logic and problems into a deeper level of the unconscious. Like prayer, it’s a way to clear space for an encounter with the Divine.
How did it help me get unstuck? Words emerge from the left side of the brain, so the writing and re-writing I was doing, though creative, was largely left-brained work. When I get stuck in my left brain processes (logic, analysis, naming, critiquing, defining, judging, fixing), the best solution is to step away from the problem and engage my right brain. That can be done with colour, movement, play, images, and free-flowing creativity – all of which are incorporated into my process. Before long, my left brain is jolted out of the old patterns that got it stuck and begins finding new pathways to unexpected solutions.
How can you make your own question mandala? Your mandala will be as unique as you are. It emerges out of your own brain, so it shouldn’t look like mine. If you’re new to this process, though, and want some guidelines, here are the steps I took for this particular mandala.
1. Start with a large white piece of paper. Something heavier like poster board or watercolour paper works well, especially if you’re using Sharpie markers, as I do. (You could also use paints or pencil crayons. Or if you’re doing this at work – at a board meeting perhaps – use a pen or pencil or whatever you have handy.) I find it best to get down on the floor with the paper and markers and let my body movement around the circle become part of the process.
2. Think about a simple image that is connected with whatever you’re wrestling with, or one that helps you define yourself. In my case, a butterfly is closely connected to the story that emerges in my memoir. For you it might be a candle, a walking stick, a pencil, a book – anything.
3. Draw that image in the centre of the paper. Don’t worry about what it looks like – this process is for you alone and you’ll have to let go of perfection for now. (Note: many mandalas don’t start with an image in the centre, but for this particular process, when I’m wrestling with something specific, it’s where I like to start.)
4. Draw a circle around the image. If you want it to be symmetrical, use a protractor, stencil, or bowl. If you’re not worried about symmetry, simple draw it freestyle.
5. Outside of the circle, begin with whatever shape comes to mind. Don’t over-think this. This is meant to get you out of logic and self-critique, so don’t let yourself get stuck in what will look best. Just draw! If triangles feel right, draw them. If circles feel better, then just go with it. Spirals, boxes, ovals, hexagons, squiggles – whatever. Just choose a shape and repeat it all the way around the edge of the circle.
6. Keep adding new shapes around the edge, always repeating whichever shape you choose around the entire circle.
7. Once you have a fairly substantial circle, begin a spiral of questions. Again, it’s important not to over-think this. Ask whatever pops into your head without sensoring it. (As you can see, I chose to blur out the questions in the image above, because some of them are fairly personal.) Keep writing until no more questions show up.
8. Add a few more rings of shapes outside of the questions.
9. When you feel like it’s almost complete, incorporate a circle of words that represent the themes that began emerging in your mind once you wrote your questions. Again, don’t over-think it. Even if a word seems puzzling or challenging when it shows up, write it down. It might surprise you with some new insight.
10. At the edge, decide intuitively whether you feel it needs closed energy or open energy. If you feel the need to enclose it, draw a complete circle around it and decorate the circle if you wish. If you’d rather have more open energy, finish it with shapes or squiggles or spirals reaching out beyond the page.
In the Tibetan tradition, where monks make elaborate mandalas with coloured sand, they destroy them soon after they’re complete as a meditation on impermanence (a central teaching of Buddhism). The sand is brushed together and placed in a body of running water to spread the blessings of the mandala. Though I haven’t managed to destroy the mandalas I create on paper (I suppose I’m not as evolved as Tibetan monks), I occasionally do body mandalas on my skin (like the one below) that disappear after a few baths.
I love my paper mandalas and find places to hang them on the walls around my studio or in the hallway leading to my studio. They remind me to bring colour and meditation back into my life, and sometimes they surprise me with new insight when I look back over them.
Try it next time you’re stuck. Even if you don’t have a huge epiphany, you might be surprised just how much fun it is to play with markers again.
by Heather Plett | Nov 14, 2011 | Beauty, change, Community, Creativity, fearless, journey, Joy, Leadership, Passion, personality, Spirituality, things I've learned
* I would rather teach people to think beautiful thoughts than to create grammatically correct sentences.
* I believe that beauty and justice are inextricably intertwined and I want to bring more of both into the world.
* I believe that the greatest inventions, discoveries, and solutions emerge when people start asking the right questions.
* I believe that you have to ask a lot of questions in order to get to the right ones.
* I am happy when I can help bold creativity blossom in those around me.
* A little part of me shrivels up inside when I find myself stifling creativity with too many rules and judgements.
* I am easily distracted by colourful markers and clean white paper.
* I believe that personal leadership is more important than positional leadership.
* I choose community over team, circle over hierarchy, and family over corporation.
* I believe that shared stories open doorways to transformation.
* I am less productive when I haven’t had time for deep contemplation and equally deep play. The two go hand in hand.
* I believe that our differences are important but that they should not divide us.
* I delight in making new connections with people whose ways of looking at the world intrigue me. I am open to letting them change me, if it’s for the best.
* I am committed to hosting and being part of more conversations and inquiries that follow spiral patterns (moving inward to deeper wisdom) rather than linear pathways.
* Deep and soulful listening is often the best gift I can give anyone, and so I strive to keep my mouth shut and my ears open more often.
* I believe in walking lightly on this earth, and hope to some day use fewer resources for my own personal gain.
* I want to be open-minded and open-hearted and to live with delight as my constant companion.
* I believe that vulnerability and truth-telling can serve as catalysts for deep relationships and profound change.
* I believe that in order to create one great work of art you have to be prepared to create at least 100 mediocre ones first.
* I believe that time spent in meditation, prayer, and body movement is never time wasted, and I hope to some day live like I believe it.
* I believe that God created each of us to do good work and that we cheat our Creator and our world when we let our self-doubt and fear keep us from doing it.
* I want to bring more colour and light into otherwise dreary spaces.
* I strive to be more courageous tomorrow than I was today.
* I believe in daily transformation, continuous learning, and growth that doesn’t end until the day I exhale my last breath.
* I am committed to doing my best work, which is at the intersection of creativity, leadership, community, and story-telling.
by Heather Plett | Nov 7, 2011 | Creativity
Sometimes I let myself get stuck in the wrong stories.
Stories like:
– I would accomplish more if I had a nice office with big windows letting in the natural light. And a nice art easel. And more space for bookshelves.
– It’s okay to want what I want… in fact, I’m probably ENTITLED to a bigger space with natural light. I can’t create without it. Why do I bother trying?
– If I had a beautiful healing room like my friend Diane, I could host story circles in my own space and wouldn’t have to be satisfied with a rather ugly room in the back of a church. In fact, I shouldn’t bother hosting any more circles until I have the right space.
– If this house weren’t falling apart, with peeling linoleum in the kitchen, broken chairs in the dining room, and ugly carpet in the living room, I’d feel more comfortable hosting people here and I could do more of my work in-person.
– If only… (and the list could stretch to 101 more items)
It’s not that it’s wrong to want those things. It’s just that it’s wrong to let myself get stuck in the limitations of wanting them too much. When I get stuck in them, I forget to be grateful for what I have. I forget that I too can be resourceful and make new things out of old, like the people I’ve seen in the poorest parts of the world, making shoes out of rubber tires, or spoons out of seashells. I forget to treat the gifts I’ve already received with reverence and respect.
I let my house get messier “because it’s not good enough to host people in, so why should I bother keeping it clean?”
I let my tiny storage-space-turned-studio become a dumping ground for clutter “because it’s too small, cramped, and windowless for me to create in, so why bother?”
Last week, I knew that it was time to loosen the grip those limiting stories were having on me. I spent Friday morning clearing the clutter out of my tiny windowless space that used to be a storage room in a dark corner of our basement. It’s a space I poured my creative resourcefulness into last year before I quit my job, putting cheap fabric and old paneling on the wall and free hand-me-down carpet on the floor.
And now I am grateful for it again.
I finally did some creative work in this space again (see the mandala in my last post), and now my head is buzzing with new ideas.
Here’s my tiny space, with my creativity board in front of me and my art supplies and favourite books within easy reach.
On the ceiling by the light hang the butterflies that told me to write a book.
Here’s a corner of my creativity board, with elephants from Tanzania (oh how I loved seeing them in the wild!), a dried leaf from the centre of the labyrinth at Tranquil Spirit (my friend Diane’s healing space), and some of my creative meanderings.
One of my favourite trinkets, a gift from my sister that reminds me to continue to stare with wonder at the many possibilities that this big, wide world has to offer.
Another corner of my creativity board, with a photo of my sister and I backpacking around Europe many years ago.
My favourite view – lying on the floor looking up at the iridescent fabric hanging from the ceiling. This space – though it may not seem like much – is sacred space.
Here’s Maddy, who is delighted when I let her into my creative space so that we can do some co-creating (which we did lots of this weekend). She made a special magic wand for me. On its handle it says “be magical”. I’m going to wave it around the room whenever I need to make old stories disappear, or I need to make new things out of old things that no longer serve me.
One more view… the entrance to my tiny space, where I painted a tree of dreams (follow the link to see a video of me painting it) and Maddy painted a magical character out of her favourite book, Harry Potter.
by Heather Plett | Nov 4, 2011 | Beauty
the cloth that covers the table at the centre of our story circle each week
A story has emerged for me lately that has helped me define myself. It is that of a woman carrying a basket and filling it with story threads as she wanders.
Last week I was on a conference call with a circle of women planning a women’s gathering for next summer. We’ve been wrestling with what to name our gathering, and someone mentioned the words “weaving wisdom”. We all liked it. I shared with them the fact that lately I have seen my role in life as “weaving story threads into a tapestry of wisdom”. Each of the women in the circle is also a weaver of some kind.
With weaving on my mind so much lately, it shouldn’t have come as any surprise that last night’s writing prompt was a spool of thread. I’d brought brown bags for each of the people in my creative writing circle and inside each brown bag was an ordinary item that the holder had to write about and possibly use as a metaphor for her/his life. I chose the last bag.
Here’s my story about the thread inside my brown bag…
The Weaver
For years she’d carried her basket, not sure what it was for or why she’d been gifted with it as a child.
Though she didn’t understand its meaning, she knew it was important. She knew she was meant to carry it.
As she went through life, she found herself attracted to colourful story threads everywhere she went. Each story thread that was offered her was lovingly tucked into her basket.
She was a wanderer, this woman. She could barely keep her feet from moving. Europe, California, Kenya, India, Nova Scotia, Ohio, Bangladesh… she went wherever the stories called her to go.
Everywhere she went, she added new threads to her basket. Stories of courageous young women in Ethiopia. Stories of devastated villages in Bangladesh. Stories of justice workers rescuing young girls from sexual slavery in India.
Her basket threatened to overflow with all the threads she carried, and yet it never got heavy. She loved those stories dearly and spent time with them every chance she could.
Still, though, she wondered… what was the purpose of all of this? What was the use of all of these threads? What was she meant to do with them?
She began to ask the wise people in her life. “What do you think I’m meant to do with my basket?”
“Hmmm….” those people would say. “It just looks like a tangled mess to me.” Or “You have to find the answer in your own heart.” Or “Have you talked to God about it?” Nobody could give her an easy answer.
And so she continued to wander and gather more stories. But her heart became heavy, for she knew that all of this was meant for something.
Then one day, there came a distant whisper. “Have you tried weaving those threads together and making meaning out of them?”
Hmmm… really? Was she meant to be a weaver? But these were just tiny snippets – how could she make anything meaningful out of loose threads? And… what if she didn’t have the skill to weave them properly, or even to know which colours to line up together? What if she messed up and damaged the threads that had been entrusted to her?
She picked up a few threads and played with them wistfully. Could she trust the wisdom in her hands to make something out of this tangled heap?
Soon she realized, though, that without much effort at all, she’d lined up those first few threads in a way that made the colours dance. Yes. That looked right. The stories took on new meaning and beauty when she placed them together. She added a few more… and then more. Someone slipped a new thread into her hand. Ooooohh…. that one looked so lovely with the others!
Before she knew it, she was weaving. The threads were slowly being shaped into a beautiful tapestry in her hands.
She worked for hours, lovingly caressing each thread as she added it to her work of art. When she finally looked up from her work, she saw that she was being watched by eager eyes. Several of the people standing nearby were reaching out to her. In their hands were new threads.
“It looks so beautiful,” said the people watching her. “Will you teach us how to weave?”
This shocked her. “You want ME to teach you how to weave? But… I’m just playing with threads…I’m not sure I know what I’m doing!”
“Oh but you do!” they said. “You need to trust the gift in your hands. The world is desperately in need of more tapestries.”
And so she gathered her willing new friends into a circle. Reverently, and in awe of what she had begun, she lit a candle and rang a bell. “Start by telling us a story,” she said, and slowly and tenderly the people in the circle began pulling threads from pockets near their hearts. The threads were beautiful and each one was different from the last. Some were sparkly and bright, others were rough and well-worn. All were rich in colour and texture.
Before the end of the evening, a new tapestry had begun to form. “We’ll come back next week and work on it some more,” said the friends, excitement in their voices.
And so they did, and each week the woman marvelled at what she had helped to shape.
