What are you growing? What are you letting die?
Welcome to the ArtsBound Newsletter. Every Tuesday, I share three thoughts or insights meant to help performing arts students and young professionals flourish in their life and career. Today we’re looking at what it takes to give rise to your unique creative endeavors.
You can read a web version of this newsletter (and past newsletters) HERE.
- 4.5-minute read -
(NOTE: I started ArtsBound because I believe the world would be a better place with more people living their true calling. If you know a student or young professional who is searching for their niche in the performing arts world, consider forwarding this email to them. If this email was forwarded to you, you can sign up to receive my newsletter every Tuesday. It's free, and I’ll never share or sell your data.)
1. Growing your next creative endeavor.
About a month ago, I went through a difficult few days during which I experienced a generalized sense of frustration associated with my creative efforts. I felt a need to begin work on a big project; however, I had too many ideas, I wasn’t sure where to invest my time and energy, and there seemed to be several obstacles in my way.
I shared these feelings with a mentor of mine. She reminded me that all periods of creativity are preceded by a time of rest and gestation, and winter is traditionally seen as a time for this type of latency, both literally and symbolically.
In short, I was feeling impatient towards the natural process of creation.
In past newsletters (specifically 09/08/20, 12/19/20, and 01/26/21), I’ve written about the global transition that 2020 and 2021 have presented us with. At this point in the time, this idea is completely non-revelatory, but I think it bears repeating for the sake of offering these words of encouragement:
If you, like myself, have had times of frustration due to what appears to be stagnation in the development of your career, remember that transitions - while often a time of significant change - are rarely a time of high productivity. Give yourself the space and time to rest and to gestate what it is you will undoubtedly bring to life when the time is right.
2. The wintery white.
It’s been a snowy few weeks in Pennsylvania, and as I’m writing this, more snow is falling outside my window. If you’ve ever spent time in the country or wilderness after a big snow (or even in the city or suburbs before plowing begins), you know how remarkable it can be to see the whole world (as it seems) covered in white.
As a writer with an incurable need to wax poetic, I often contemplate the symbolic significance of... well, everything. The color white is most regularly associated with purity, innocence, and faith. But there is another association for the color white - rarely thought of, I would wager - that I believe deserves our attention:
Death.
In winter, much in the natural world dies or goes dormant, and of course, it is only through this process that new life is possible.
There’s an association for the color white that (kind of) fits here, and that’s new beginnings. But this only gets at half the story. We might forget that, to embrace what is coming, we often must let go of what has been.
There are two types of transitions: 1) those is which we have a sense of where we are headed, because we planned it out before we ‘left’ where we were; and 2) those in which the destination is still uncertain, and we must leave where we have been before we can get a read on where we are going.
2020-21 is very much the latter. The old rules for civilized life went out the window in a matter of weeks, and we have only begun to write the new rules.
It’s worth asking yourself (especially as tomorrow begins Lent, which in the Christian tradition is a period of ritualized ‘letting go’): What is it that you can let die this winter in order to make space for new life?
It might be old patterns of thought, old ideas of what your future might look like, old expectations for yourself or the others in your life, or old ways of doing things that are no longer serving you and your calling the ways they could be.
Letting go can be scary, painful, and difficult, especially when we can’t clearly see what benefits might be waiting for us on the ‘other side’. With that said, I suppose one of those standard associations with the color white really can be helpful here: It takes a great deal of faith to step into the unknown - a most creative place to be, and exactly where we find ourselves as a society.
3. Giving birth to your idea.
The commercial world in which we live is carefully curated to offer us the promise of convenience and comfort. Amazon and the like have made getting want we want as easy as clicking a button, and we can expect whatever it is to show up on our doorstep the next day. In the process, it seems our society has become more averse to discomfort, delayed gratification, and hard work.
But as you could imagine, giving birth to a creative project that is authentically your own is anything but easy and comfortable. Much like literal birthing, the process is long and not without its moments of intense pain. Giving birth (as well as maintaining the life of your creation ‘postpartum’) requires strength, courage, patience, stamina, perseverance, and a good support network of caring and knowledgable individuals.
One of the greatest joys of my work as a coach is serving in one of those supporting roles, guiding other artists as they give rise to something they have been gestating for months or even years.
If you have something growing within you that you’ve thought about moving on, and you feel you might benefit from the support of a caring and knowledgable other, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m always happy to talk with others about their dreams and ideas!
See you next week!
Lee
PS - I started ArtsBound because I believe the world would be a better place with more people living their true calling. If you know a student or young professional who is searching for their niche in the performing arts world, consider forwarding this email to them. If this email was forwarded to you, you can sign up to receive my newsletter every Tuesday. It's free, and I’ll never share or sell your data.