An artist I know tells me that when he sits to paint he has no idea what he is going to paint or what the final product will look like. He says that if you know what you want to paint you should not even bother. His way is the process and he surrenders himself to that. He shows up, he picks up the brush, he paints, he begins. He has no idea what colors he will use, what the finished work will look like. Every day he paints, no matter what.
Being disciplined, committing to the process, means letting go of the drama, the rackets each one of us embraces as our own. It means sitting down to paint every day whether we feel like it or not. It means no excuses, no matter how noble, how intellectual, or how many people we can get to agree with us. We don’t have time to think about all the reasons it can’t be done – we are too busy doing it.
Slowly, the constant mind chatter stops. The inner critic becomes quiet and we can begin to listen to the inner voice, the voice of intuition, the source that knows it all. The other voices we have heard our whole life become quieter - our father telling us we were never good enough, our mother telling us our dreams are childish, our teacher saying we aren’t bright enough and society telling us to be more practical. Once the commitment to the process has been made, the discipline becomes a pathway to release creativity and expand consciousness.
Even if this moment we are lucky enough to be doing something that makes us feel alive and creative, nothing stays the same forever. Eventually we get to a point where the old stuff just does not do it anymore. This is the critical juncture. We know we are blocked creatively because we make excuses -- “It’s too late for me.” - “When I make enough money I’ll do what I like.” - “It’s just my ego talking.” - “My family and friends will think I’m crazy.” - “Creativity is a luxury, I should be happy with what I’ve got.”. If we are telling ourselves any of these things, we can be sure we are not being all that we can be.
In The Artist’s Way, Cameron talks about a real yet amazing way to get in touch with our creativity. She calls this discipline “the morning pages” and considers it the most basic of all the tools in the creative recovery and discovery process. She says that in order to retrieve your creativity, first you must find it.
The morning pages are three pages of longhand stream of consciousness. They are non-negotiable. Just like the artist who paints every day, we show up every morning and write. There is no wrong way to do the morning pages. These pages are not meant to be art or poetry. They have nothing to do with thinking, grammar or punctuation. Sometimes something wonderful comes out of them and sometimes not. Sometimes they are silly, self-pitying, and sometimes angry -- it does not matter because no one is going to read them, not even us for the first eight weeks.
What is most important is that all that angry, whining petty stuff that is finding its way to the morning pages is what stands between our creativity and us. That’s the stuff that is swirling around in our minds, the internal censor making comments -- “You can’t even spell.” “You call that writing.” We need to remember there is no right or wrong way to write the morning pages -- our censor’s opinion doesn’t count.
The more we write, the less self-consciousness we become. We need to constantly ask ourselves, “How do I feel?” - Remembering that the path to creativity is through the heart not through the head. As we begin to trust the process, the discipline of writing this way reveals feelings, longings, and dreams we did not know we had. They are not about anyone else. They are just about us. The pages have a silent whisper -- “To thine own self be true.”
In this quiet place, we meet ourselves. It is there that we contact the creative self. Until we experience the freedom of solitude, we cannot connect authentically. Cameron says, “Art lies in the moment of encounter, we meet our truth and we meet ourselves, we meet ourselves and we meet our self-expression, we become original -- an origin from which work flows."
Sometimes we will hear ourselves saying, “I don’t know who I am. I don’t recognize myself." Sometimes we just start getting rid of things, throwing things away. All this is okay. This is our new sense of identity saying the old stuff won’t work anymore. If we want to do and be something new, we cannot keep doing the same old stuff. There is a strange feeling that something wonderful is happening and yet everything is still simmering, still under the surface.
By staying with the discipline, we navigate this critical juncture -- the old way does not work anymore but we are not quite sure what the new way is. This place in limbo will unnerve us if we focus on goals rather than process. As the artist who paints, writes or sculpts, we must surrender to the process and know that the process will reveal our next step.
Connecting with the artist inside is like a jolt of spiritual consciousness. There is nothing that makes us feel more alive and connected then when we are doing what we are meant to do. We are in the moment (and at least for the moment) we are no longer one step away from the action.







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