by Naomi | Apr 1, 2016 | Creative Life
In The Art of Possibility, Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander point out that this harmless little question might not be so harmless after all. Why? Well, the underlying question for most of us is, “What did I accomplish today?” And the danger is that we’re measuring the value of our day based on our answer.
If you’re a novelist and you spend the day working on a difficult passage, ending up with 500 words, it’s all too easy to judge the day a failure. Only 500 words today. Or, what if at the end of a day of teaching, you realize that you spent most your time resolving a heartfelt conflict in your classroom but hardly any time on spelling?
Asking the wrong question leads to the wrong answer. And the wrong answers, over time, lead to skewed thinking, poor decisions, and too often, a sense of discouragement and confusion.
And yet, reflection is an important part of growth. The momentum that growth brings is key to staying motivated and engaged.
So … What helpful reflection questions might we ask ourselves at the end of the day?
Here are a few I’m going to try.
- When did I feel grateful today?
- When did I feel connected today?
- When did I listen to someone today, and what did I hear?
- What did I learn today?
- What challenged me today?
- What made me curious today, and how might I explore my questions tomorrow?
Donald Miller used to have a course about life-planning. In it, he encouraged people to ask themselves in the morning: “If I could do today over, what would I do differently?” Projecting yourself to the end of the day and thinking about what honestly matters shifts the day’s focus from that addictive to-do list to something more lasting and important.
I’m enjoying the experiment–these book-end question sessions at the start and end of the day. Want to try it out too? I’d love to hear about your experience. Tag me on Instagram or Twitter and let’s chat about it. In the meantime, here’s to you and your creative journey.
by Naomi | Feb 26, 2016 | Creative Life
Dorothy wanted to find her way home. Harry Potter longed to have his parents back. Luke Skywalker craved an epic adventure. These desires were strong, strong enough to cause Dorothy, Harry and Luke to take action and say yes to the unknown. But by the end of these stories, the goals the characters started out with had changed, grown, and transformed.
One of the most important things my writing has taught me is about the dynamic nature of goals. Namely, I’ve learned that in the best stories, the adventure transforms the goal. Characters may not end up with everything they originally wanted, but they do end up with what they need. Let’s put that a different way, into real life terms.
When we set out to pursue a goal, we may not gain everything we originally wanted, but if we commit fully, and hold our goals with open hands, we will likely end up with what we need.
I have to say, if there is a way for me to gain “what I need,” I’m definitely all for diving in fully. How about you?
Let’s break this down a bit and take a look at what dynamic goal setting looks like.
DECIDE TO TAKE A JOURNEY: First, we check in with ourselves and listen to what is calling our hearts. We ask: What am I longing for?
DRAW YOUR MAP: Then, we set the best goal we can, given the information we have. We write the goal down and post it visibly.
START AT THE TRAILHEAD: Next, we commit fully. We aim for the goal and give the process our full effort. We research and discuss our goal with experts and learn and take action.
LISTEN TO FELLOW TRAVELERS: Now here’s where dynamic goal setting differs from traditional goal setting. Rather than putting up our blinders and pushing on no matter what, we listen. We pay attention to unexpected opportunities that arise. We don’t put in our ear plugs when people we trust challenge us to see our blind spots.
NOTICE THE SIGN-POSTS: We are thoughtful about sidetracks, shortcuts and complete re-routes. We don’t follow every shiny object. We watch for patterns. Most importantly, we take time to slow down and reflect on the question: Is this where I need to go next?
JOURNEY ON: We continue to move forward confidently, allowing our destination to shift as needed, and making sure to collect all of our learning along the way.
CELEBRATE EACH VISTA: When we reach a vista, we stop and reflect, noting how far we’ve come. We write these down too, or record them in some way, so we can keep a running travelogue of our journey. Sometimes a vista is a good time to start the process over again, setting a new goal. Other times, the journey continues onward.
A final thought for travelers …
Often, what we need doesn’t match what we want because our deep, true needs usually involve change and growth. Growth nearly always requires discomfort, and sometimes is even downright painful. In an ideal world, we’d want life to be easy and pain-free. And yet, to me, a pain-free life that I drift through, never growing or learning, sounds miserable. I don’t want to be the same person I am today in ten years. I’m grateful that my experiences to this point have added a richness to my life that it didn’t have when I was 20.
I love how Henry Cloud describes the pain of growth in is book, Necessary Endings. He points out that while we might not describe having a tooth pulled as “good,” once the infected tooth has been removed, we can then heal and move forward. The experience was a positive one, even if we wouldn’t choose to repeat it.
What if, a year from now, you could look back and say, “I’ve had an Alice in Wonderland year.” or “I’ve had a Bilbo Baggins year.” Would you be willing to risk the hardship if you knew you had the opportunity to gain whatever it is YOU truly need?
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by Naomi | Feb 17, 2016 | Creative Life
I’ve been flying through life at break-neck pace, and that’s how I ended up in New York with hardly an inkling of a plan. I knew I needed to be in town by Thursday mid-day for a meeting, and that the conference spanned the weekend. Other than that, I’d hardly consulted the schedule. I figured I’d find nooks and crannies in my schedule to explore New York, particularly since my husband was joining me for the weekend.
So, I flew in late Wednesday night and woke up Thursday morning with an empty slate. What to do?
My first thought was: I wish I’d made a plan. But my second thought was filled with curiosity: I wonder what’s around the corner from this hotel?
And the adventure began.
It turns out that around every corner in New York, surprises wait. Cathedrals, libraries, museums, unusual shops, coffee bars, restaurants, artists, musicians, a kaleidoscope of people–each a walking story in and of themselves. As I stepped onto the sidewalk in New York, I was swept into the bustling, vibrant flow.
If I’d had a plan, I’d have been frustrated. I can picture myself, head down against that cold New York wind, struggling toward my destination, missing all the surprises along the way. But without a plan, I could soak it all in, see what I didn’t know to look for, discover the richness that isn’t in the tour books.
I wonder how often my plans keep me from being in the flow?
Flow is quite different than drift. It’s true that without a plan, we have the potential to drift through life and find ourselves where we never would have chosen to be. But flow is a shortcut. Consider a character in a book who sets out to achieve a goal. By the end of the book, she nearly always finds that what she really needs is something deeper, more meaningful, than the goal she originally set. The plans she sets launch her into motion, but soon, the plan tends to get in the way. Why? Because she’s so focused on her idea of how things ought to go, she doesn’t allow margin for surprise. She doesn’t allow herself to be swept into the bigger story of what’s happening all around her. She’s struggling against the flow.
So how do we strike a balance between plans and flow?
- Start by not being afraid to set a goal. Take into account what’s true in your life, and using those givens, set a goal that points you in a specific direction.
- Head out boldly. Let your goal inform the questions that you ask and the experiences you seek out.
- Listen closely. Pay attention. Allow yourself to follow your curiosity. I wonder what’s inside that cathedral? Go ahead, wander a bit. Your goal will still be there waiting for you, but maybe you’ll see it in richer color through the stained glass windows.
- Look for secret passages and hidden doorways. Drift happens when we lose our way by following every distraction. Flow is being caught in an ever-increasing current and heading deeper in. Why did I set this goal? What’s underneath? What’s urging me onward?
- Keep in mind that “plan” is a noun and “flow” is a verb. When you’re in flow, there’s no destination. No one can stay in flow indefinitely. You’ll find beauty and joy along the way, and have a grand, meaningful adventure. And every now and again, you’ll get tangled in the weeds. When that happens, it’s time, again, to go back to the beginning and set a new plan.
Where are you right now? In a planning phase? Drifting? Flowing? Do you have particular questions you ask yourself that help you find flow? If so, I’d be so grateful if you’d share them. Share below, or feel free to connect with me on Twitter (@naomikinsman) or Facebook.
Here’s to you and your grand adventure!
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Psst… Do you know about Naomi’s Writerly Play Kit: a weekly collection of curated resources, inspiration and encouragement? Keep your creative spark ablaze … sign up for exclusive access here.
by Naomi | Jan 26, 2016 | Creative Life
When I look at a finished artwork, I tend to assume the artist saw the work that way (polished, complete, refined) in their mind ahead of time. The longer I’m a writer, and the more I explore art-making of all kinds, the more deeply I understand the untruth –and unhelpfulness – of this assumption.
Every book I’ve ever written has surprised me. Every book has changed through the process of drafting and revising. And not just little changes. Huge, structural, 180 degree kinds of changes.
What if, instead of waiting until I have a clear vision, I started making art right from where I am today?
A couple weeks ago, I attended a mixed media art journaling class. To start, we laid a foundation of gesso, which is a thick white paint. Then, we wrote in the gesso with a skewer, just free-form thoughts. Then, we used a hair dryer to dry the layer. At this point, unless you looked closely, you couldn’t see a thing. Next, we chose three colors and lightly rolled a paint roller across all three paint dabs. Then, we rolled the colors onto the page in no particular pattern. Again, we dried the layer. And on and on it went, blindly for the most part. We built on the colors and patterns that showed up on the page, and an artwork started to emerge.
As I worked, I thought about improv. At Society of Young Inklings, we use an improv based approach called Writerly Play to help writers get out of their heads and into their natural, spontaneous thinking. The reason we often don’t know what to write, or think we don’t have ideas, is that we’re searching for a finished idea, one we can see fully from the outset.
Despite the fact that I teach Writerly Play all the time – I literally wrote the book on it – I forget in my own work, whether I’m writing or painting or playing guitar, that art is made in layers. I try to see the work ahead of time. I don’t allow myself to try a new art form because I look at finished examples and have no idea how to get from novice to artist. But if art is made in layers, it’s okay for me to be a novice. The first layer doesn’t even have to be visible.
Here’s how I’m going to try building my work in layers.
- I’ll start by playing with supplies. Paint, words, instruments, a camera (via my phone). I’ll explore possibilities until something catches my fancy.
- When something does catch my fancy, I’ll turn my attention to that idea and add a layer.
- After allowing the layer to settle (or dry, depending on my medium) I’ll add another layer. And another.
- I’ll keep going until my artwork is ready to show to someone else, to gain outside feedback.
- Then, I will return and keep working. Some layers will cover up ideas, some will add new ideas, but even the imprint of past work will be part of what is ultimately created.
- And at some point, I’ll pronounce the work finished.
Doesn’t that sound like an interesting experiment? I think this process can work whether the artwork is a song or a collage or a book. Following these steps will cause me to start earlier, work more intuitively, and come up with work that has richness and depth.
I can’t wait to try it. Anyone with me? If you are, let’s chat about what we discover. Share below, or on social media, wherever you want to engage. I’m @naomikinsman, and Naomi Kinsman on Facebook.
by Naomi | Jan 19, 2016 | Creative Life
Yesterday, I finished a draft of a book. The project had a tight deadline and required my full concentration. Finishing was a big deal––a cause for true celebration. So, what happened the minute I reached my goal? My mind leapt to all the other things, you know, all those things I hadn’t been doing because I’d been concentrating on the book.
Fortunately, I caught myself in the middle of my “yes, but” thinking, and I remembered to stop, to celebrate what I HAD done, rather than focusing on all that I hadn’t finished. I don’t always catch myself, though.
In fact, I do this kind of bait and switch thing all the time. Here’s how it goes.
- I set a goal for my day.
- Sometimes, the goal is reasonable and I reach it.
- If I do reach my goal, total amnesia sets in about the agreement I made with myself.
- As I close my eyes to go to sleep, I scold myself for the laundry list of other things that are still undone.
Sound familiar?
The trouble is there are ALWAYS more things to do. Emails are always arriving in your inbox. Your laundry is being worn and becoming dirty. Your body is burning up the calories from your last meal and soon it will be time to shop for groceries and cook again. Don’t get me started on the dishes. Your dog is splashing around in mud puddles and tracking dirt into the house and your cat is shedding. Dust-bunnies are gathering. One assignment is done, and the next shows up.
It’s kind of funny––the way we demand the impossible of ourselves––but it’s also not funny at all. Because what’s really going on here is that we’re breaking trust with ourselves. We’re wearing down that strong inner muscle that allows us to achieve goals in the first place. Think about how it would work with a child. We ask the child to make their bed, and then when they proudly present their neatly-made bed, we point out their mid-process art project strewn across the desk. “Why didn’t you clean those up?” Because they were busy making the bed!
How motivated is that child going to be next time we ask them to make their bed?
We break trust with ourselves when we set one goal and score ourselves on another.
Too much broken trust, and I feel lackluster, ho-hum, meh. I can’t drum up the energy to reach for another goal. Of course I can’t. I’ve taught myself there will be no joy in the achieving of that goal. All there will be is more work. To me, that sounds like a recipe for a meaningless trudge through life.
So, today, I’m thinking about my trust-muscle, and how to develop it. How can I celebrate what has been done? How can I learn with my heart (not just my head) that when I’m doing one thing, that means I’m not doing any of the others? And how can I create systems that help me adjust and rebalance quickly after I’ve blocked out the world to reach for a really important goal?
One way I do this is to think about the six main areas of my life: core, commitment, creativity, connection, cultivation and casting dreams. I wrote about them a while back, and will probably write about them more soon. For now, maybe I’ll figure out a way to celebrate by investing time and attention in one or two of the areas that hasn’t been tended for a while. Maybe I can spend some time with a friend (connection) and make something just for the fun of it (creativity). Yep, that sounds like an excellent way to celebrate.
How about you? Have you baited and switched on yourself recently? What might you do to re-build some inner trust?
