Note: This post was inspired by Jen Louden, Susannah Conway, and Marianne Elliot, three beautiful souls who are hosting a Creative Joy Retreat that will be luscious, fun, and inspiring. The post will be part of a free e-book that will be available soon..
Recently I was asked to reflect on the greatest learning that I took away from 2011. “Patience and trust are the biggest lessons that showed up,” I said. “They’re lessons I’ve had to relearn a few times in my life.”
It takes a lot of patience to build a creative business, especially if you prefer to follow intuitive pathways and ask a lot of deep questions instead of crafting foolproof business plans. And it takes a lot of trust to believe that the path you’re following is the right one when there are lots of bumps and curves and the destination continues to looks so blurry.
Last year’s word was “joy“, but sometimes, when I’m being honest with myself, I wonder if the word that best defines it might instead be “worry“. I tried to follow joy, but in the process I did a lot of worrying. Did I do the right thing quitting my job? Is this dream really going to pan out? Do people value my work? Are any of my efforts going to pan out? Am I ever going to make enough money?
Recently, a question has popped up in my mind repeatedly when I’ve started to take the worry path.
What if the outcome is not my responsibility?
What if I am only responsible for sharing my gift and not how people respond to that gift?
What if my only duty is to follow my muse and I don’t have to worry about whether or not people like what I produce?
What if the only thing I need to do is be faithful to my calling, show up and do the work, and then trust God to look after the rest?
What if all the striving I do to be a “success” is wasted effort and I should instead invest that effort into being as faithful as I can be to the wisdom and creativity that has been given me to share?
When I take that question seriously, it gives me a great deal of peace. When I let go of the outcome or the sales or the response of other people and focus instead on being faithful to the process and my own commitment to excellency, the knots stop forming in my stomach and I can breathe more deeply.
My mandala practice is helping me learn this lesson. I make mandalas for nobody but myself (even though I’m willing to share them). For me, they are about the process. I show up on the page, pick up the pencils or markers that I feel drawn to, and let whatever needs to emerge on the page. What shows up is almost always about something I need to learn or be reminded of or discover. It’s not about the art. The outcome is not my responsibility.
A few months ago, I was supposed to do a community-building workshop for a leadership learning institute in my city. Only three people registered for it, so they decided to cancel it. I was able to let it go at the time because I was already overbooked and needed the breathing space. They were still interested in the content, though, so they rescheduled it for January 23rd. This time, there are already 14 people registered, ten days before the event. I had to let go of the outcome and trust that, if I was faithful to what I felt called to share, and did my best to let people know, the right people would show up who need to hear what I have to say. The outcome is not my responsibility.
So far, my Creative Discovery class only has 3 registrants, even though I’ve promoted it more broadly than the last class that had much better registration. It doesn’t matter. I feel called to do this class and I know that it will be what those three people (and I) need even if nobody else shows up. The outcome is not my responsibility.
I’m putting the finishing touches on my book and writing a proposal to try to get it into the hands of agents. When I start reading books about how to write a proposal and how to land an agent, I can get my stomach tied in knots over whether I’m doing things the right way, whether I’ll ever be successful, etc., etc. But then I have to pause, take a deep breath, and make a mandala like the one above. It doesn’t matter if I’m a “success”. I feel called to share this book with the world and I will do so even if I have to self-publish it. The outcome is not my responsibility.
Letting go of the outcome doesn’t mean that we should get lazy about the product, or that we shouldn’t work hard to let people know about what we’re doing. But once we’ve worked hard to follow the muse and been diligent in offering the gift to the world, we need to let it go and trust that the people who need to find it will.
I love the principles of Open Space, an Art of Hosting methodology for hosting meaningful conversations.
* Whoever comes are the right people
* Whatever happens is the only thing that could have happened.
* When it starts is the right time
* When it’s over it’s over
In other words, the outcome is NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY!
And now it’s your turn… what do you need to let go of?
1. The lacy pattern the sun is painting on the wall right now, aided by the tree outside my window.
2. The eclectic, chaotic Christmas tree decorated by my daughters with the ornaments they have hand-picked each year from the local fair trade store.
3. The miles of prairie roads that held hours of conversation between my friend Randy and I as we drove out of the city to explore.
4. Having a friend like Randy whose eyes light up over many of the same things that make my eyes light up – a good bookstore, books that deepen our spirituality and mindfulness, any opportunity to wander to a place we haven’t seen before, a glass of wine in the evening, deep conversation, art, etc.
5. A husband who loves to cook delicious food when friend visit.
6. More opportunities to teach than I expected would come my way when I started this journey a year ago.
7. The way creativity is showing up in unique ways in each of my children.
8. A day of Christmas baking with my mom, sister, niece, nephew, and daughters. And all of the tasty eating I’ve done since.
9. New ideas that keep popping up and inspiring me.
10. Partnerships with talented and wholehearted people that will result in some wonderful offerings in 2012.
1. This magical summer. Beautiful weather and a lack of bugs – almost more goodness than a “proud-to-be-hardy” Winnipeger can handle!
2. My feet. Oh my – they have carried me so far this summer! Walking, walking, and more walking. Yesterday – 18 km. The day before – 14 km. I love my feet.
3. Discovery. Wandering around my city on foot makes for a lot of interesting discoveries – things I’d never seen in a car.
4. Work. More of it than I anticipated. So much that my calendar looks full from now until April.
5. Teaching. Oh how I enjoy being in a classroom and teaching and inspiring and helping people remember their own sense of wonder and delight!
6. Confidence. A sense of self-assuredness that my intuitive path is a better one for me to follow than the well-trodden path others are following (especially when it comes to teaching).
7. Support circles. People who show up when you want them to. People who let you cry when you need to. People who celebrate with you when that’s what you need.
8. Movies in the park. Popcorn, cold drinks, lawnchairs, a little Indiana Jones, and people I like to hang out with.
9. Iced tea. Especially the glass my husband brought me an hour ago.
10. An upcoming adventure. A road trip, a three day walk with interesting people, and some time to connect with my favourite people in 2 different cities.
11. Kites and swings and suction cup arrows. Or more specifically, the two evenings this week Maddy & I have hung out in the park making each other laugh, trying to fly kites with little wind and shooting each other with suction cup arrows.
12. Anticipation. The really cool & diverse people who’ve already signed up for my creative writing class and the fun things I’ve got in mind to do with them.
13. Wanderers, edge-walkers, fringe-livers, freaks, misfits – and all of those lovely souls who are wandering with me on the path.
14. Cheerfulness. More specifically, a shift in tone in my mom’s voice after the ravages of surgery and chemo have subsided somewhat.
15. A shift. More hopefulness in our family, even though not all of the hard things in life have been resolved (ie. the fact that Marcel’s job offer turned out to be a dud that he turned down).
16. Notes on the whiteboard in front of me, from sneaky visitors to my office. “Julie is boss. Nikki is gorgeous. Maddy is awesome. Dad is silly. Nikki rocks. Julie is a beautiful girl.”
The last three weeks have been full of so much… ummm… I hardly know how to describe it… BIGness. FULLness. GOODness. Happiness. Inspiration. Love. Fill-in-the-blanks-with-superlatives.
First there was ALIA, and then there was my annual (26th year!) trek to the Winnipeg Folk Festival with various members of my tribe. Both were amazing places to spend time, where I was surrounded with beautiful words, passionate people, shake-the-world ideas, take-my-breath-away moments of wonder, and so much inspiration I’ll still be writing about it for weeks to come.
I wish you all could have been there.
I feel so very, very blessed to have experienced so much goodness.
These are just a few of the random things that brought me joy in the last few weeks:
1. Sitting alone at the Little Stage on the Prairie, listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard lead the audience in a “Snake Farm” sing-along, while cotton ball clouds drifted by overhead.
2. Late night talks with Ann Badillo and Kathy Jourdain, two ALIA soul-sisters.
3. “Nothing to do but hang out and listen to good music” moments with my family at the Folk Festival.
4. Standing on the roof of a beautiful victorian home with interesting new friends, watching fireworks on Canada Day (even though I was in the U.S, and they called it the Red, White, and Boom festival).
5. Eating a spinach, goat cheese, and balsamic vinegar crepe in the North Market in Columbus.
6. Wandering off the beaten track along the river (in Columbus) and discovering the most amazing skatepark someone had made by hand out of packed mud in the middle of the woods.
7. A brief but inspirational after-dinner conversation with Darcy Winslow that reminded both of us of the importance of personal stories, especially for women in leadership.
8. Seeing Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long perform This is My Voice.
9. Maddy’s tattoo and her dad’s sense of humour. 
10. Being hugged by my family in the middle of the night in the airport and knowing I am deeply loved.
11. Delicious food and good company at Alana’s in Columbus.
12. Many, many moments of light (both kinds).
13. Throwing various things in the air (hats, balls, glowsticks) with my exuberant nephew Jack. And sharing a popsicle & sucker with him.
14. Doodling on my arm and leg. And not worrying about whether I looked foolish doing it.
15. Dancing with my daughters, niece, nephew, and sister.
16. Being witness to love and the circle of life as I watched my oldest daughter carry my nephew back to the car after a long day.
17. Sitting with several people at different moments and offering them safe space and a listening ear for their stories.
18. Fireflies. Thousands of them sparkling along the river pathway.
19. Fearing & White. One of my favourite Folk Fest moments, and the cd I took home at the end of the weekend.
20. Being fully present in this wild and precious life.