From chaos to creativity

Last night I asked my Creative Discovery students to consider the word chaos.

“What does the word mean to you? What does it conjure up?”

One woman groaned. Her job feels like chaos right now. “It’s being imposed upon me,” she said, “and I HATE it!”

Another woman (the scientist in the circle) spoke of the chaos theory and how random things are always happening. She said that helped her see chaos as a positive thing.

A third woman had a body reaction to the word – said it filled her with dread and angst.

“What I’d like you to consider,” I said, “is that chaos is a necessary step in the journey toward creativity.” And then I presented the change curve.


Before the transforming idea can emerge that will lead us to the new status quo, we have to go through chaos. There are no short cuts. You see it appear in almost every development model – from community development to project management.

CHAOS is a common factor in our lives any time real transformation is about to take place.

Around the circle last night, a few looks of recognition began to appear when they superimposed the change curve on their own lives. Ah yes, they’d been through chaos.

Getting up from my chair, I walked over to a large garbage bag. I picked it up and dumped the contents on the floor. It was full of things I’d collected from my recycling bin and garbage can – cardboard, plastic, styrofoam.

“THIS is chaos,” I said. “Out of this, we’re going to invite creativity to appear.”

“I want you to imagine your life and the space you’d ideally like to live in. What things are of value to you that you want around you? What do you want your community to offer you in order for you to feel comfortable and at home? Work on your own space, but also work as a community to develop a neighbourhood that reflects who you all are and what you value. Go ahead – make something out of chaos.”

The eager ones jumped in right away and started imagining bookstores and coffee shops. The reluctant ones took their time, but before long they too were drawn in.

Out of chaos, beauty started to emerge. A comfy coffee house; a bookstore; a neighbourhood park with a play structure and trees; a farmers’ market with bins full of fresh vegetables; a recycled water bin; an urban garden; a bike rack; a tiny picnic table with a chess board. Given more time, they would have gone on – they were already talking about building art galleries and neighbourhood learning spaces.

When we were done, we all gazed lovingly at our new tiny home. It was clear what we all valued – community, green spaces, books, good food, comfort, and friendship.  There were no freeways or big box stores in sight.

At the end of the class, nobody wanted to put their new creation back into the garbage bag. This was no longer garbage – it was art and ideas and little bits of their dreams.

That classroom last night was a tiny microcosm of the world in which we live. It may feel like chaos right now, with a lot of garbage we’ve created cluttering up our lives and making us feel trapped. And yet, out of chaos, creativity emerges. When push comes to shove, and when we give space for our community and our values, something beautiful can come out of this mess.

Last night’s playtime gave me hope.

Now let’s go play with the garbage and make something beautiful.

Notes:

– Photo source for the change curve: Jurgen Appelo

– Inspiration for last night’s activity, my friend Sophia’s photos of cardboard city. Check out Halifax in cardboard!

New Mandala offerings – out of a long birthing process

This week I had a flashback.

My very first mandala poem was published in a poetry journal about 25 years ago.

I didn’t have the language for it back then, so I wouldn’t have called it a mandala poem, but that’s essentially what it was – a circular poem that spiralled into centre. That womb-like poem began a long birthing process for me.

In the twenty-five years since then, I’ve been journaling in circle, doodling in circle, and making designs on my arms in circle. All of that has lead me to the place I am today, where my mandala practice has become so meaningful to me, I make one every day.

Lately, something new has been growing in me… a realization that this is too important not to share. Mandalas have helped me find clarity and a sense of peace around so many issues, I need to let other people in on the beauty of them.

So I’ve got a couple of new things to offer to help you develop your own mandala practice.

I’ll be doing one-on-one Mandala Sessions with people who are trying to work their way through restlessness to peace, through complexity to simplicity, and through confusion to clarity.

I’m also offering Mandala Discovery, a six week story circle and mandala-making workshop, for people who want to develop a longer term practice, or explore ways of using mandalas in their coaching or teaching roles.

To learn more and to register, go here. (Or click the “mandalas” link on the menu bar.)

Also… if you’re one of the first 10 people to register for Mandala Discovery, you’ll get a BONUS… a mandala journal with a one-of-a-kind cover handmade by me.

How to live

Be mesmerized. Stare at the branches swaying outside your window and let them hypnotize you. Don’t stop staring until there is nothing new to see there.

Be passionate. Let your heart love what it loves, and let your feet move to the rhythm that lifts them off the ground.

Be curious. Step outside your door and head in the direction of whatever you’re curious about. Stop to notice the tiny details you forgot to see the hundreds of times you passed by them before.

Be in love. Give your heart away every day, not once, but a thousand times. Let your life be broken open with love.

Be forgiving. Let other people’s mistakes wash past you like waves heading back to the ocean. Don’t hold onto them lest they drown you.

Be unapologetic. Live fully and boldly in your own skin, without apologizing for who or what you are. Don’t listen when others try to shame you or silence your voice.

Be playful. Skip down the street. Play with crayons. Tell jokes in board meetings. Remember what it’s like to lose yourself in unadulterated play for a whole delicious afternoon.

Be vulnerable. Crack your heart open and share the stories buried there. Cry at sad movies. Let people hug you. Be open to possibilities and let your tenderness be your strength.

Be courageous. Try the thing that scares you the most. Climb to the top of the tower. Line up a public speaking gig. Step boldly into your big, beautiful life and don’t let the fear monsters hold you back.

Be colourful. Wear that crazy rainbow scarf you bought on a whim. Put on the red boots and strut down the street. Add more colour to your next powerpoint presentation. Throw some paint on your walls.

Be yourself. Let people into your life, but don’t let them change you. Offer them the best of who you truly are. Be who your deepest gut is telling you to be.

On a winter morning

I love this world,

but not for its answers.

And I wish good luck to the owl,

whatever its name –

and I wish great welcome to the snow,

whatever its severe and comfortless

and beautiful meaning.

Mary Oliver

Permission to Play

On Friday afternoon I took myself out on a play date. I started with a nice lunch in a lovely cafe in my favourite bookstore. After many years of business travel, I grew fond of eating alone in interesting cafes. It’s not something I do very often in my own home town, though, so it felt like a rare treat.

After lunch, I wandered through the bookstore (and yes, I treated myself to a book), and then headed to the conservatory (an indoor tropical garden) with a chai latte, my camera, and my mandala journal. The flower garden at the conservatory was fully of orchids and crocuses, and I soaked in the colour like a hungry addict getting a hit of Spring.

I had to carefully guard my playtime last week. It had been a hard week, with a few too many twelve hour days of marking papers, teaching, and prepping for teaching, and I knew how badly I needed time off. When I got a very good invitation to serve on an interview panel for a women’s leadership program, I almost gave up my Friday afternoon playtime. But I managed to stand firm and say “no”.

It’s how it always is, isn’t it? Playtime falls at the bottom of our priorities. It’s the thing we do “if we have time” after fulfilling all of the duties that fall on our shoulders. First we have to be responsible friends, moms, employees, business owners, homeowners, community members, etc. After all, that’s what a grown-up does, right? Take care of responsibility first?

Whenever I teach creativity classes, I almost always assign some kind of playtime for the weeks between classes. This past week, for example, I told my students that I wanted them to fill a page of their new art journals with colour. “I don’t care what it looks like,” I said, “I just want to see it full of colour.”

I already know what I’ll hear next Thursday, because I hear it all the time. “I didn’t have time. I couldn’t work it into my schedule. My husband made me feel guilty for goofing off while there were dishes to be done. I was too busy driving my kids to all of their activities.” I’ve heard it all before, and it all boils down to the same thing. “I don’t know how to make playtime a priority in my life.”

What we fail to realize, though, when we use those excuses, is that we are not only trivializing playtime, we are trivializing our own self-care and investment in our happiness. We are putting everyone else’s needs ahead of our own and forgetting that the best way to be of service to them is to first find our contentment and self-worth. We are also forgetting that play is a crucial part of growth, even for an adult.

Those people who make time for play also know how to work hard and how to pour themselves with passion into their lives.

Play isn’t trivial – it’s transformative.

Play helps us get in touch with our deeper selves. It helps open our imagination and gives us a greater creative advantage in all areas of our lives.

Play helps us deal with stress – often more successfully than talk therapy does. It gives us greater balance in life and helps us cope with the times when we must struggle.

Play is also one of the greatest learning tools. I’ve seen it in my classroom when my students’ eyes light up when they’re allowed to play and often don’t realize how much they’re learning from their play.

Play is a community transformation tool. Engage in play with your community, and you invite each other into a new space of possibility, creativity, and connection.

I was once leading a staff planning session where most of the time was spent in play. We tore pictures out of magazines to make vision boards and we got our hands dirty playing with clay. One of the men in the group was clearly stressed out by how trivial the day was and asked more than once “When are we going to get to our action plan?” I didn’t say much, but at some point, while he was holding a clay model of our group’s vision in his hands, he had an a-ha moment and said, “Oh, I get it now! This IS our action plan!” Even strategic planning can be transformed with a little play.

As we grew into adults, we learned to relegate play to a child’s activity. We had more grown-up things to do. And yet, we are missing out on so much if we don’t make play a priority.

What will YOU do this week to make play a priority?

 

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