The Small Stuff

Sometimes, a small change does the trick. Sometimes, you only need a baby step. Creativity queen SARK would call it a “micromovement.” Just do the tiniest part of a thing—and then stop. You don’t have to do any more. You can continue if you want, but you don’t have to.

I’m practicing this now, with this very blog. At the moment, I am not resorting to small-stepping for lack of motivation, but for lack of time. I need (and desire) to eat dinner and finish other things, but I want to get some thoughts down, too. So I’m writing at least a portion of this blog first, urging us all to celebrate the little accomplishments in our lives before moving on.

Every tiny action we take leads to the fulfillment of a greater goal, just as even the shortest sentences, put together, create an entire blog. The achievement of the goal needn’t be elevated above all the steps it took to get there. The pieces make the whole.

When the whole overwhelms us, it’s time for tiny movements. And I disallow the berating of ourselves for only making a small movement! Be proud. A little is more than nothing.

Sometimes, when unmotivated, I have to give myself a break and let the laziness or apathy run through me, absolutely embracing the doing of nothing. Then, the motivation mysteriously returns on its own. On the other hand, when chronic procrastination or lack of enthusiasm sticks like a cold I want to kick, I can often peer into my heart and find one small thing I don’t feel so apathetic toward. Completing that one item often gears me up to do another or satisfies me enough that the guilt over my inaction dissipates. In the midst of general indifference, something usually sparks a passion—even if only a fleeting passion—when I search for it.

By taking the steps I want to take as I am motivated to take them, I buck what I think society or other people think is best. I tend to harbor little boundaries or schemas of how things “should” be done in my subconscious. I act and face challenges based on those lies sometimes. Of course I’m not going to want to follow a method or live up to a standard that seems unfair! If a project seems too terrible to begin, it’s usually because I have pre-formed some idea of how it has to be done or what the finished product needs to be. Investigation of that idea often reveals it to be founded in fear or carried over from childhood along with all sorts of other fantasies that don’t actually correspond with reality.

Examine the boundaries you’ve put in place or the rules you think must be adhered to. Maybe those boundaries and rules are helpful. Maybe they are not. Are they even realistic? More than likely, they help at times and hinder in other instances. After identifying boundaries or rules that seem like lies, break a couple of them. Feel liberated, knowing that you can retreat to the safety of those boundaries at any time.

Moving at our own pace, according to beliefs that coincide with our authentic selves, allows us a kind of freedom that removes the need to rebel against external standards. If we are operating according to rules and notions that help us ad reflect life as it truly is, the boundaries of work and law and time don’t seem so oppressive. We can see what needs to be obeyed and what can be fudged or abandoned. When we have opened enough doors to satisfy our naturally roaming, exploring, inquisitive natures, a few padlocks don’t seem so harsh. Perhaps they can even be unlocked later, when we’re done running wildly through the worlds we’ve already made available.

Tasks we had trouble starting because it seemed like they “had” to be done or “should” be completed in a certain fashion aren’t so difficult to begin when external measurements fade in importance. We can tackle challenges and responsibilities freely, at our own pace, with an outcome that may not match other people’s standards or even our own initial impulses. This is the power of allowing (and appreciating) small steps and investigating the validity of our beliefs and standards.

So take a small step today; move into action, even if for only half a second. Then, take a rest. Check out Planet SARK for ideas. Use tiny things to your advantage, from the small steps you make to the tiny changes in your routine that keep you alive. The smallest change can make the most surprising difference. A little reminder from me to you…and me.

(See, all those sentences really add up!)

Can't Be Perfect

I feel my sense of judgment creeping up because I haven’t blogged in the last few days despite a firm desire to do so. As a brief update, emotionally, I’m out of the doldrums, and hope to stay here. Music is a guiding force in this transition. In May, I and a few friends will be putting together an arts night in which we will showcase our various talents and hopefully raise some money for charity. Details to come…

Until then, I’ll hold my enthusiasm for the arts evening tight and begin accepting the areas where I am less than enthusiastic. Even though I’m planning this one musical exposition, I tell myself that I could be doing more. Sure, I could be, but I don’t. Something blocks me—something inside me. Is that okay? Should I accept my inaction and complacency?

The bottom line is that I AM NOT PERFECT. I cannot be. Part of me wants to pursue a music career. Part of me does not. The why is not clear. I tell myself that “perfect Michelle” would be out getting gigs and singing everywhere possible. It doesn’t take long to be reminded that I am not “perfect Michelle.”

Perfection is an image or standard in my head unlike anyone else’s. All of our ideas of “perfect” are equally individual and unattainable. Perfect isn’t real and actually causes conflict when two different people’s versions of perfection don’t mesh. It’s a fruitless pursuit. I am who I am, but unfortunately, I am often the last person to acknowledge or accept that.

In honor of my imperfection, illustrated in this attempt to blog when I should be getting in bed to be rested for work tomorrow, I am showcasing a little tune for y’all. Any flaws in the video simply further the theme of this particular post and reflect the fact that I recorded it at 11:30 at night, all the while hoping I wasn’t waking up my downstairs neighbor.

Happy listening. Enjoy your imperfections! They are often the most interesting parts of you.

When Do I Need a Swift Kick in the Pants?

Where is the balance between honoring feelings and pushing boundaries? I often feel resistance toward doing certain things. Sometimes, I’m caring for myself by recognizing the resistance and saying no to the activities or behaviors in question. Other times, I push through the resistance, do the thing, and end up with a fantastic sense of accomplishment. How do I know when to push and when to let myself be?

I suspect that the answer has something to do with investigating the motives underneath the resistance. Why do I not want to try this activity, be with this person, or start this task? Am I afraid of something? Is this an instinctual hesitancy? Are my beliefs about this situation true? Am I resisting this thing just because of the unknown? Am I honestly tired now or not equipped for this? Do I really want to do this or not?

Those are some of the questions I could ask. And I could do the same when I feel enthusiastic about doing certain things. Sometimes, I life turns out better when I put the brakes on and consider why I’m running to do something. However, I’m less likely to advocate the slower pace when it comes to enthusiasm. It’s rare that I get overwhelmingly excited about something, so I generally feel that it’s okay to go with the flow when I experience a rush of that sort.

Still, it can be worthwhile to ask whether or I’m enthusiastic about something because it’s a comfortable habit or because I genuinely want to be involved with that thing or person. Is this really enthusiasm, or is it a rush to get things done? Am I in touch with my true feelings right now?

However, even as I write this, I wonder where the balance lies. I’m not sure if I can tell where my resistance comes from. Could it be that I don’t want to give up a habit or that I truly don’t want to do that thing or go to that place or have contact with that person? Can my desires lead me astray? I suppose they can when I’m not in touch with their underpinnings.

To get in touch—now there’s a goal. I still advocate doing the harder or scarier (more-faith-required) thing when faced with tough choices, but I also don't want to neglect feelings that could have a firm foundation.

In any case, good luck seeking balance, my friends. It’s a lifelong journey!

Reach Out

Sometimes, I forget that one of the cures for any kind of troublesome thinking is simply opening up to someone else about what is happening or what is on my mind. No matter how trivial or ridiculous it seems, if I share my feelings or thoughts with someone, through ANY means—email, phone, in person, letter-writing, singing a song, crying when there are no words—the load lightens. I have to get the jumble of ideas or emotions out. And when I’m able to share details, it feels even better. Somehow, sharing really matters.

So obvious, and yet I forget that! Lies enter my head, like (and this is in no particular order):
1. It’s not that big a deal.
2. This is too huge/incomprehensible to deal with.
3. I’ve dealt with this a thousand times. Let’s just ride this one out.
4. I can handle this myself—or I SHOULD be able to handle this myself.
5. That person won’t be able to respond in a helpful or satisfying way.
6. I don’t want to bother someone else with this.
7. There’s no way to express this in an adequate or understandable way.

The key is replacing those lies with the following truths:
1. If I feel it, it matters. If this is an issue for me, it deserves attention.
2. Once I express something to someone either by speaking or writing, it becomes less of a monster. I can think through the thing and see it for what it is. If I am dealing with a long list of worries, stresses, or to-dos, looking at them written down makes the thoughts less repetitive and more contained. The mountain in my head is usually smaller than I think.
3. If I am dealing with an issue again, there is more to investigate. It still deserves attention. I will learn something new this time or more deeply cement truths I have not fully grasped.
4. I probably can handle this myself, but it will be much easier, lighter, and faster to ask for help. Simply getting a new perspective can mean the world when life gets confusing or overwhelming.
5. I have been surprised time and time again by people’s reactions. Often, the act of getting something out is all I need, regardless of the response, but by sharing, I at least present myself with the opportunity to receive a new gift. Also, if I don’t think one person can give me what I need, I probably know someone else out there who can. Reach out to that person.
6. I am never bothered when a true friend reaches out for help. I like hearing other people’s stories and want to be there for them. It deepens relationships. The person I try to contact does not have to pick up the phone or reply to my note if s/he does not feel like interacting. My friends value me and will be there however they can be. The main benefit for me is simply trying to communicate what I’m holding inside.
7. I can express this thought or emotion in any way I can. There are no rules. No method or means of expression is inferior. If I have to draw someone a picture or just dial a number and start sobbing, that is good enough. If the extent of my willingness or abilities enables me to send only a tiny email or IM that says, “I’m hurting,” that’s fine. When I can’t offer a big explanation, leave the house, or speak on the phone, there are smaller means of reaching out. If all I can do is send a letter that won’t get to the recipient for days, I can still write it. Trash the overtures and immediate reciprocity. I don’t have to have something to give in return for their time. An opportunity will rise to return the favor later. For now, let the monster loose!

I rarely have to suffer alone. Even if I can only seem to reach out to the same individual for a period of time, at least I reach out. The person might ask for some space after a while, but the process of choosing who to open up to usually follows a natural course. My perception is generally the only thing making me believe I’m “too much.”

Don’t bottle things up, my friends. Even little issues need airing, or they will fester and grow into infectious beasts. It’s amazing what a little word to a friend will do. Even if I have to start out doing nothing more than asking about the other person’s day, that form of outreach is good enough.

The main thing: Human beings are connected. We are made to share joys and sorrows. Everyone needs a chance to do what they are built to do. Reach out, regardless of how it looks!

What Has Value?

I have been out blowing and going, brewing and doing, rambling and racing. Now, it’s time for rest. Once again, I ask, “What nourishes me?” Today, that is sitting at the piano, relaxing into the music. No need for tangible results.

I tend to be so tied to doing things that can be measured or that result in a physical product. I am inclined to clean my bathroom or finish a home improvement project before I sit down to write, play, read, or think. In the midst of my errand running, with the satisfaction of a checked-off to-do list, I can miss the extreme value writing, playing, reading, and thinking hold. Even if I do not complete a song or an article, the time spent thinking and pondering IS worthwhile. People just can’t see it, and I tend to like things that I think will win me favor with people.

Over the years, however, I have learned that I can FEEL the value of abstract activity. My family never really valued intangibles; therefore, I became highly achievement-oriented, filling my life with goals like cross country race times, grades, levels of extracurricular involvement, and eventually numbers on a scale or calories eaten in a day. I am beginning to see that striving toward such targets may offer far fewer benefits than enjoying less concrete activities.

My brain needs imagination time to function properly and come up with new ideas when I eventually get to work or encounter a difficult project. Imagining during my free time prepares my mind for creative thinking in a product-driven environment. On my own, I can think and play without creating an end product.

When deciding not to work on another item on my task list, it can be very difficult to shirk old beliefs that shout, “Why are you sitting around doing this? Why are you walking around aimlessly at night or lying in the middle of the living room floor? Why are you not finishing up that song or cleaning the bookshelves or preparing lunch for tomorrow? What you’re doing now matters to NO ONE!”

“Well,” I reply, “this matters to me. And because I allow myself the freedom to spend time without goals, products, or measures, I feel less hemmed in by all the things in my life that require me to meet expectations and quotas. Participating in activities without goals enhances my positive emotions and creative ideas—a priceless result. I feel invigorated, rather than drained, by these pursuits. The fact that I am doing this now will matter to someone, someday. And even if that person is only me, that is enough.”

The value system for activity that I have in place is pretty hard-wired from childhood. But by experimenting with letting myself go and doing things that seemingly have no point, I can see if life gets better or worse when I shift my focus and priorities.

We can all afford to take a look at our fundamental beliefs. Are there things you believe and don’t know why? Examine those. Then, do something contrary to the belief. Does your belief still seem founded in truth?

As for me, I’m off to the piano. Maybe a song will come out of this. Maybe not. Maybe all that really matters is that I make music.

Uncovering the Color

I just want to add one more thing about painting today.

At one point during the painting process, I covered everything in black. This was a heartbreaker at first. I’d spent so much time on the color work and decided to cover it up. It seemed so morbid and wrong.

But as I painted on the black, I recognized a persistence of color. I took my fingers and scratched at the canvas. The colors reappeared in all their vibrance, peeking through the dark overlay. It looked fantastic. I couldn’t believe it. Even the black itself wasn’t really black. It was a glossy, purpley mix of everything underneath.

That final creation—vibrant color peeking through black and gray, embodies much of what I’m about. I believe in the power of darkness to drive us to new heights of life and light. I believe that we each hold massive amounts of color and joy within us, but it must be uncovered. Life is not only growing and adding and finding new color. It is revealing the color that already exists within us, and that color is part of the darkness. Black is actually EVERY color combined. It’s not an empty thing. It holds everything. It holds all possibility.

Also, about covering up the color: Is the color worthless if no one sees it? Or does it create form and texture that the painting would lack without it? The artist wouldn’t have gotten to the final purple-black finish without all the color beforehand.

I understand Rothko’s chapel paintings a little more now. Endless color rests beneath the dark finish. And even though I’m curious and wish he’d unleashed the color to the world, at least I know that the color exists.

With Rothko, though, I wonder if he got to the point where he couldn’t see beyond the mass of color that turned to black. He couldn’t separate all the color he saw into different pieces. I wonder if, in a way, he might have been trapped inside the mix of color. He couldn’t make sense of it and so felt he had to leave us (committing suicide).

It isn’t bad to feel confused or dominated or overwhelmed by the colors and thoughts and ideas of the world and within ourselves, but it does make it more difficult to cope with life. That is the curse of the artist: a million ideas. What do we do with them? And when we do something with them, the onlookers tend to critique them to death.

What’s more, the thing we as artists create rarely if never fully expresses the idea within. Artists who can accept this and the reinterpretation of their own ideas by others thrive. Those who obsess over getting across EVERY nuance or who feel shot down when their ideas are interpreted in an unsatisfactory way have a much more difficult time.

I want to accept my thoughts and the thoughts of others. I’d like to have a conversation with uncomfortable ideas instead of immediately shoving them away. I want to recognize that everything holds color. It all shines, even the darkness.

Curiosity is key. I want to investigate what might live under the surface of things. I want to scratch away the black until I see that the black has a purpose, too.

Coloring through the Fear

I finally painted today! I attended a process painting class, used paint, explored, and didn’t have to withstand any critiques. It was all about letting my own creativity out, taking note of my resistances, and seeing what happened when I ignored the resistance and followed my heart.

I started out painting with whatever colors I felt like using. Every couple of minutes, I would see my painting and love it but also want to continue painting. I felt sure that if I kept on adding paint and color, I would ruin my creation. I noticed this resistance, and instead of moving on to a new piece of paper, I followed my intuition and put the next color exactly where I wanted to, just to see what might happen.

What was the worst that could happen? Giant fears of ruining my perfect picture arose within me. Did I really think that ruining a painting would ruin my life? My fear made no sense, and I immediately related it to how I think about decisions in my daily life. I can exhibit such catastrophic thinking. Every choice seems like life or death. My painting process reflected that.

In the studio, however, I transcended the fear and never changed my canvas. The miraculous thing was that every time I continued painting, despite worries that my work was at its most beautiful and would be marred by another brush stroke, the painting got better. Once I made another mark or muddled my “perfect” creation, a new technique or idea opened up that made something else even more shockingly beautiful. By getting to a new stage with the painting instead of repeating the start of another one, I discovered techniques I never would have considered and learned more about color combinations and paint texture. That information remained hidden and unavailable when I stayed in the safe spot and stopped before I “ruined” anything.

It felt good to break through and do the challenging thing. And it felt odd to have been so wrong. Continuing to paint didn’t ruin anything—it opened me up to more.

And that’s what I want to do in life. I want to go beyond safety to a place where miracles and true learning occur. I want to remember that I can’t make a mistake and that resistance is worth examining.