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Creativity can be many things.

It is poetry, photography, painting, jewelry-making.

It is also singing (& you don’t have to be good my friend), dancing, cooking.

It can be the way you arrange your bookshelf, the words you choose to speak, your wardrobe, your doodles on scrap paper, the stories you spin when putting your child to bed at night.

In other words, it is an act and a a way of life and a state of mind.

Like anything else, you must choose to embrace creativity. You must make room for it in your life.

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“If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.” ~Antoine De Saint Exupery

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Have an amazing weekend!

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So here I am about to hit the three month mark since I started this project [Not So Fast].

Three months, or 12 weeks, is a quarter of a year, and a whole retail season later. This is indicated by the longer days (with or without sunshine) and the email notifications of summer sales in my inbox. I can usually measure the passing of seasons as my last batch of new spring underwear I bought in March start to feel old and that new dress I bought with the promise of summer nights approaching is still hanging unworn, even though in my mind it already seems like yesterday’s news.

Not too much changes in three months time in the grand scheme of things, but it is enough that real progress can be measured, and results from the first dip of a toe in the water can finally become evident. It’s very motivating to see real, measured change. Way back there in April, I was still searching, still wondering, still praying. Praying for the moment when I knew I had it. When I knew what I was going to do next, for it had been bugging me for some time. I knew it would come to me, I just didn’t know how or when.

You see I suffer from a severe and unchangeable tendency towards intensity. I love fiercely (to those I love toughly you can attest), I work fiercely (being productive is not an issue for me), and I desire fiercely (often painfully so). I fuel myself by passion and interest, all with a healthy dose of extra intensity. When that extreme drive has no direct, positive outlet with which to pour itself into, that energy can, and will, go wildly astray. It manifests itself in me as desire, and without that outlet I speak of, mostly a desire for worldly goods.

Case in point my love for beautiful things, and my intense desire to pursue and attain the objects of my love and my passions (read: at times my love for shopping turns into a problem).

First of all, let me state that I love beautiful things. I love beauty in all forms. I love beauty in people, beauty in art, gardens, food, books, and other beautiful things, like clothes. I love clothes. Of course I know there are millions of others just like me, and after all, I am a girl and what girl (and some boys – maybe more than we realize) doesn’t appreciate beauty and love to play dress up in pretty things?

We spend countless hours thinking of outfits and planning our lives around who we see ourselves as in our heads. After a night with a cozy cup of tea and the new British Vogue, we curl up to sleep with hazy, romantic visions of our beautiful selves clothed in impeccably mastered style and (in our heads) entirely realistic and attainable glamour, imagining for a short time that our bold and limitless beauty can rescue us from our mundane chores and petty worries.

Cinderella had her dreams come true after all, didn’t she? What started as pure fantasy, born out of a girl’s life of humble service, became truth for her. This story is perhaps the most potent fairy tale that exists in our culture still to this day. And it’s still a story we read to our children, and it is a great story indeed. Dreams really do come true.

Magazines, books, movies, art and music are all beautiful and necessary compliments to life in our society and surely have their place in our home for entertaining, relaxing, learning, and often, pure, blissful escaping.

Fantasy is fun.

Sometimes when I get carried away with my life of fantasy, I have to stop myself. I have to remind myself that while appreciation for beauty and daydreaming compliment each other quite nicely, staying grounded is also just as important.

Actually, it’s more important. Especially for a dreamer like me.

Because at the end of the day, I am not that person I see in my head when I am planning my outfit for the next day. I am the girl who awakes to find that my body still aches a little from my last workout, my head is a bit foggy, and I need to pee. After I clumsily wash and stumble through fetching my first coffee, I wander into the bedroom to find a few clothes hung out from the night before. Sometimes, I put those on, but more often than not, I reach for something else. I reach for what I feel like, at the moment, in real time.

Because I am not the fantasy version of myself. I am me. Right here, and right now. I have only two legs. And I have only one body. I can only wear one pair of pants, one shirt, one pair of shoes.

I decide who I want to be that day, and every other day I do the same. Reality is made in real time. At any point in the day, we are all living live; carrying out real life in real costume, with words unscripted, and the beautiful lighting and flattering lenses hidden behind the curtain of each ticking moment.

So as much as I love my carefully curated selection of beautiful tailored jackets, hand made European shoes, and gorgeously styled leather handbags, I know that while they are beautiful in their own right, they are not me.

I am me. Pure and simple. In real time, right now.

I am not the girl I picture in my head after reading my favorite fashion blog, or catching up with my beloved Vogue. I love beauty, and beauty loves me. But I am only as good as that girl who wakes up every morning and decides who and what she wants to be.

And she can do that regardless of what (or who) she is wearing.

Three months ago I was still a little lost, still buried in my fantasies of grandeur, and feeling more and more empty as each misdirected purchase drove me further towards epiphany.

Three months later I am happy to see where I am. The changes are slow, steady, real, and happening. They are a beautiful thing to see, and they also happen to compliment my outfits quite nicely, thank you.

We can only be who we are.

This week I fasted for the love and pursuit of beauty, the real kind that exists in each glorious moment. Because as I get older, I find the original Cinderella in her tattered blue dress and her loose golden locks just a little more beautiful than the princess version, and a whole lot more appealing.

I will always love beautiful things, and I believe beauty can be transformational. But, for me anyway, it’s important not to confuse my desire for any material goods (no matter how fetchingly beautiful or well made) as a filler for what always lies at the pit of my stomach: the true and authentic desire to be a good human being.

Authenticity shines through any cover, no matter how you cut or stitch it. Surely, that is a thing of beauty.

Let’s be real. I know I am trying.

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My calendar is a little full these days.

In fact, it’s the exact opposite of minimalist: the only day in the near future with nothing to do is tomorrow. But I have to work tomorrow, and I guarantee I could find some other things to do too.

Yet, this isn’t a complaint the way it might be if I had a calendar chock-full of things to do that I didn’t want to do. There’s been a shift in my life lately, by which I’ve come to understand that in order for me (and you too) to live a happy, healthy existence, I need to be putting my energy into doing what I love. What do I love? Writing, reading, sunshine, good coffee & food, quality time with friends. So my calendar may be full, but most often, the things penned into its days meet the criteria of putting my energy into doing what I love. When I feel “busy” I stop and remind myself of this: energy with no direction turns against itself, and energy put into what you love only makes it grow.

Gwen Bell introduced me to the concept of 168 Hours. It’s a book and it’s also a worksheet and a philosophy. You’ve got 168 hours this week—What are you going to do with them? A few months ago, I printed out the worksheet and kept track of my week. Want to know what I was surprised to find? Not that I squander my hours on the internet or out at bars or even reading more than I need to. I found that I spend a lot of time writing. And so I was forced to realize that any doubts I have about myself as a writer are completely in my head, and I was forced to give myself praise (it’s harder than I realized…more on that in another post).

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The day of rest is something I think about a lot. It’s so simple, really. A day off. No computer, tv, email, Facebook, blogging, or work. It’s the ultimate self-care. While I am pretty good (after years of practice) at admitting when I need alone/quiet time, I’m less good (having less practice) at turning off my computer and going completely analog. Even one day a week seems, well, hard. When I do it, I feel rejuvenated, but finding the space to do it is difficult: my brain (that pesky organ) likes to tell me the computer is ever-so-necessary.

Anyway, my point is, I haven’t figured out a great system for digital rest. Though I am taking this afternoon off. (That was a spur of the moment decision…but I’m going to stick to it. I go offline at 12 noon and won’t be back until tomorrow am.)

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Are you wondering what I’m going to do today on my half-day of digital rest? (I am, especially since I’ve got plenty to do.) First and foremost, I’m going to play. Go outside for a walk, doodle some drawings, scribble by hand in my notebook. I’m going to read and maybe stroll into town for a coffee. I’m going to talk to Sasha and plot some ideas for Cactus Heart and sit with a portion of the novel I’m reworking. I’m going to pet the kitties and daydream.

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What’s on your minimalist calendar?

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This morning is the “official launch” of my dream project: an e-literary journal called Cactus Heart.

As you know, I’m a writer. As you may or may not know, I’ve been in publishing for the better half of the last decade. For a long time now I’ve toyed with the idea of beginning my own literary journal, but it’s always seemed so, well, impractical.

My personal writing practice & output has grown a lot over the last couple of years, and my commitment to literature has bloomed into something much larger than I ever imagined. It finally occurred to me that now is the time to make my literary dreams come true.  As more and more magazines, journals, and books take their content to the web (Wild Sister and Electric Literature are my two faves), I find myself inspired again and again by what is possible. I want to be elbows-deep in art and literature—impractical or not—and set out to create a way to do it.

And so Cactus Heart was born. It was a glimmer in my eye for a long time and now it has arrived. It is still a newborn—soft and tender—but it also has such potential: will there be a print edition? will I start my own small press? These questions will be answered in the future, but for right now, I’m concentrating on this fresh e-literary journal vision.

Cactus Heart will publish new and original poetry, fiction, nonfiction, art & photography, and the occasional book review, all in a full-color PDF format. In honor of its name, Cactus Heart will devoted to spiny, sharp writing & art that maintains a succulent vulnerability.

Want to know more? Visit the website: www.cactusheartpress.com or the Facebook page or the Twitter feed. You can also sign up for email updates or the RSS feed to keep abreast of Cactus Heart news.

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I welcome your thoughts and comments! (And I’d especially love it if you share this news with your online communities, as I’m hoping to receive a wide range of submissions.)

Filed under: Creativity

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It was January 2008 and I was 27 years old. An annoying blurriness in my left eye finally convinced me to see an optometrist. It turned out that the insides of my eyeballs were bleeding. That can’t be good, I thought to myself.

Turns out I was right.

A blood test at my family doctor the following week revealed some startling information. The normal amount of white blood cells in a healthy adult male ranges between 4 and 11. Mine? 584. Nope. Not good at all.

“It looks like leukemia,” Dr. Merker told me.

POOF. Complete evaporation. Suddenly, that budget meeting I had that afternoon didn’t seem to matter all that much.

I had cancer. Chronic mylogenous leukemia to be exact. The doctors gave me a 40 to 50 percent chance of surviving. Later I found out the odds were more like 20 percent. Damn.

What followed was a gruelling journey that included seven months of intense chemotherapy, radiation treatment and ultimately a bone marrow transplant. My immune system was reduced to nothing and I spent another precarious year recovering.

Throughout this journey I’ve experienced tremendous fear, anxiety, pain and a host of side-effects ranging from red urine to hallucinations of talking lobsters in my bed. But through it all emerged some profound lessons about life, its awesomeness, and how I want to live it.

I’m thrilled to say that I’ve beaten my cancer and now have a clean bill of health. My blood type before my transplant was A-Negative. It’s now O-Positive; a fact that still blows my mind. In addition to my new Positive blood type, I also have a new positive outlook on life.

Through it all there emerged some profound lessons. Lessons about what really matters in life and the importance of making room for those priorities. Balancing like a tightrope walker between life and death for as long as I did brought into sharp focus a clichéd, yet important, truth: we don’t have a lot of time, so spend it well.

I thought about the things I’d miss most should I slip off that tightrope. Family, friends and the hundred simple things we take for granted every day. Things that didn’t make my list? Money, my job, fancy clothes, a big house, fast car or big-screen TV. Experiential riches, not material wealth filled my list and opened my eyes to what matters most in life.

Lying in my hospital bed, I wasn’t kicking myself for not spending more time watching TV. Or buying more clothes. Or living in a bigger house. And I’m not psychic but I’m guessing you won’t be either when your time comes.

Our culture places a lot of emphasis on these material benchmarks of success. In pursuit of these acquisitions however, we often sacrifice time and relationships with the people and experiences that make life so enjoyable. As Henry David Thoreau said: “It is preoccupation with possessions, more than anything else, that prevents us from living freely and nobly.”

My journey with cancer helped me identify what really matters to me in life. But identifying these priorities isn’t enough. We also need to make room for them which often requires shifts in attitude and behaviour. For me, simple living is an approach to life that allows you to make space for the things that truly matter. My latest ebook, Balancing Priorities and Prioritizing Balance, explores this idea and offers advice and practical suggestions for how to not only identify your priorities but also make room for them.

Life rarely goes as planned. And as devastating a blow as my diagnosis with cancer was, I am nonetheless grateful for the way it shaped my outlook and how I want to live my life.

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As you might imagine, not too many physical presents get exchanged in the Rauch-Starr household. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t give each other gifts. Over the last several holidays, we’ve not exchanged gifts, but instead chosen something we’d like for our home, and bought ourselves that. This year, we didn’t even bother with that. We have everything we need, and we have some travel plans for this spring, and that’s enough.

On birthdays, we generally have a party, and on the actual birthday, go out to dinner. This is our way of giving each other “experience” (i.e., time with friends; good food) instead of physical gifts that clutter the house. On my last birthday, Sasha left me a series of very thoughtful notes around the house, and that was far better than any gift I could have unwrapped.

What’s on my chore list? Those five above rank pretty high on my daily & weekly lists. I’ve also got feeding the cats, watering the plants, vacuuming, balancing the checkbooks, paying the bills. And writing.

Yes, you read that right. I put writing on my to-do list. Every single day.

I wanted to be a writer because I love words, I love language, I love writing. I became a writer by making a daily practice of it. Equal parts passion and persistence. Both are important. Persistence maybe more so.

So, yeah, sometimes writing feels like a chore. Some days I’d much rather park myself in bed with my clowder of cats and a good book. Some days I’d actually rather do laundry and dishes and grocery shopping. Putting writing on the daily to-do list accomplishes two things: it brings writing out of the imaginative, perfect ether into the real world and it creates the space I need in my day to actually do it (I hate an unfinished to-do list).

In the opening chapter of The War of Art, Stephen Pressfield details his day. The most important sentence on that first page—“I sit down and plunge in”—pretty much says it all. Those six words embody the most straightforward way to creativity. Anne Lamott, in Bird by Bird says, “Writing is like milking a cow: the milk is so rich and delicious, and the cow is so glad you did it.” In other words, writing is a chore the writer must do—and chore it may be, but the result is filling and nutritious, and the relief is incredible.

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Making Place

Depending on your personality, this might be the easiest of all the steps. If you’re already a committed minimalist or simplicity-seeker, you might know what I’m about to say. You must dedicate/designate/devise some sort of space in which your creativity is going to happen. It could be your desk. It could be your bed (preferably when your loved one is not sleeping in it). It could be in the bathroom (not as uncommon as you might think). It could be on the floor next to your desk (that’s where I do it). It could be on the couch, at the kitchen table, or in your walk-in closet (but, wait, you’re a writer, so you can’t afford a walk-in closet). Honestly, it doesn’t really matter where you choose, so long as it’s a comfortable spot where you don’t mind spending a lot of time, and if possible, a spot where the people in your house will leave you alone while you’re in it. Think of it as a sacred meditation spot.

You want the space to be clear of clutter. It should be a reasonably open and empty space. If you’re a mess-making creative, pick up after yourself when you’re finished with each session so that every time your return to the space it is clean and ready to nourish your creative desire.

Making Space

This one could take a little bit more work, and might require some collaboration. Space is different from place, in that place is tangible, and space is not. Space is where the writing lives, but place is where you go to open up the space and let it come out. Space is a mental thing.

Do you want to write? Paint? Draw? Take photos? Learn the art of flower arranging? Play music?

Good. The first step is figuring that out.

The second step is admitting it (it helps to admit out loud, to others, preferably at a large social gathering where most everyone you know will hear you and ask follow-up questions the next time they see you). The third step is thinking about how you’re going to make it happen—maybe you need to make a place, maybe you need to make time, maybe you need both. Perhaps you need supplies or a creativity partner.

Lastly, you’ll want inspiration, and that’s a daily process. Seek inspiration everywhere. In uncooked vegetables and radio broadcasts and poems and the feel of your pet’s fur. In the opening chords of a song you love and the smell of baking bread and the contrast of colors available all around you, if you’d just look. There is a lot of space in inspiration, and a lot of inspiration in space.

Making Time

Busy is a busy does. A lot of us live our lives as though we are in chronic deficit of time. Which isn’t exactly true. I understand that life is a big, complicated, crazy thing. I understand work and commuting and kids and pets and families and chores. With the exception of kids, I’ve got all of those too. I understand the concept of busy. I used to be busy myself. I’m still often busy—though now I’m usually busy writing something or other.

Here’s the thing about time. If you let it get away from you, it gets away. If you pretend like it doesn’t exist, you’ll never accomplish what you want to accomplish. There are 24 hours in the day, and you need to find a way to devote at least one of them to your creative pursuits.

I find the to-do list very helpful: I put writing on there as #1, and 9 out of 10 days, I make it happen. On the tenth day I don’t kick myself. I rest. And then I get back to it.

Put creativity on your to-do list, or on your calendar, or on a sticky note attached to your computer/bathroom mirror/refrigerator. Write in big letters. In pen. Even better, in permanent marker.

And then do it. Over and over and over again, until it becomes habit—because habits are really just behaviors that you’ve given a lot of time.

(PS. Things to eliminate in order to make time for creativity include: television, drinking, cleaning (believe me, the dirty dishes will still be there in an hour), shopping, Facebook, email, any and all work you might bring home from your job. Make sure you continue to make time for talking with your partner, playing with your kids, petting your animals, brushing your teeth, eating healthy meals, getting exercise, and relaxation (because usually making space happens when you relax).

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Space, place, time: plunge in!

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Scene

The living room. Sasha comes home after a long day of wrangling teenagers.

Sasha: “Where’s the couch?”

Sara: “I donated it to Goodwill. Look how open the living space is now!”

End scene.

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Yet I’m always seeking ways to push it further. To find the edge where simple meets comfort and to balance there.

What I’m discovering (again and again) is that it’s about maintenance.

Just like getting a haircut or a teeth cleaning, keeping your life simple requires a little bit of upkeep—and moments devoted to just doing it. The longer I avoid it, the more it needs to get done. Simplifying is sort of like the laundry in that way. Once you’ve simplified, it can be very, very tempting to take a deep breath and say, Phew, glad that’s over and walk away. But a month later, or a year later, without maintenance, you’ll be right back where you began.

Here are a few of the systems I use to keep things SIMPLE:

1. Just say no to mail. Email & snail mail, both build up. (A.) Email at least doesn’t take up physical space, but an overflowing inbox is stressful! I delete what I’m not going to read, I remove myself from mailing lists that are no longer interesting to me, and I respond to things in a timely manner, usually as soon as I read them, though occasionally it takes me a little longer. I can usually clear through my emails in a half an hour. (B.) Snail mail has a bad habit of piling up on surfaces, so a physical system is in order. First, go sign up at Catalog Choice and get off those catalog mailing lists (save a tree or three). Sign up for online billing whenever you can.   Open and deal with mail as soon as it comes in. Recycle whatever you don’t need/want. Do this every day, as soon as you pick up your mail, and you’ll never have that miscellaneous pile hanging around on the counter or kitchen table.

2. Weed out your wardrobe. Often. Whenever something new comes in and whenever you find yourself staring at the same old stuff you never wear. Keep a bag or box somewhere for donations. (Really the best way to keep the closet simple is to not shop. But I know that’s living in static world, and we are by no means static beings.)

3. Get rid of electronics as they break/outlive their usefulness/get replaced with other electronics. This means not keeping your old cell phones in a drawer somewhere. It means removing extension cords your trouble-making cat has sunk his teeth into one too many times. It means recycling old computers and other devices. There are lots of places to recycle these things: Goodwill takes old computers, CD Recycling Center takes old cell phones, Xmas lights, VHS tapes, floppy disks, chargers, etc. A quick Google search will turn up even more options.

4. Don’t accept freebies. Unless it’s something you need. Which it probably isn’t.

5. Don’t browse/shop when you’re bored. The less stuff you bring into your house, the less stuff you’ll have to wrangle with later.

6. USE IT UP. Don’t buy more shampoo, face wash, toothpaste, canned food, tea, coffee, ketchup, etc., until you’ve used up what you’ve got. If you buy a product you don’t like, give it to someone who will, or donate it (if it’s unopened, non-perishable food especially).

7. Reconsider. Remember that life and circumstances change. What you needed three years ago is probably pretty different than what you need now. Embrace change and don’t cling to what was.

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“Recently I sat in on a master class given by the filmmaker Luc Dardenne. He spoke of how viewers of his films should not assume they understood everything about the characters. As members of an audience we should never feel ourselves wiser than they; we do not have more knowledge than the characters have about themselves. We should not feel assured or certain about their motives, or look down on them. I believe this. I recognize this as a first principle of art, although I have the suspicion that many would not.”

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On first read, I too agree. Absolutely. One never really knows characters in a complete way, even the characters one creates, in much the same way one never really knows anyone.

On second read, I halted. Said But wait. If we don’t know characters, if we don’t understand them or engage with them in the way we engage with those around us, what is the point of art? 

Readers, I ask you: What is your experience of art? What are your principles of art? (More on mine in a later post.)

Are you interactive? Are you a mere observer? Do you invest in a character’s storyline or does that not matter to you? Do you prefer style over substance or substance over style or do you require both? Do you like art that speaks to the mind or to the heart? Are you a minimalist or a maximalist? I invite you to share your thoughts in the comments.

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