Cultivating Creativity with a Writing// Journaling Practice
Just out of college, I landed a ghost-writing job, writing financial articles for banks. Thanks to doing a deep dive into finance, I started saving for retirement at 20, but that job also taught me a lot about my process in putting words to paper. In essence the writing process and the editing were not the same.
As my heart yearns for more personal, authentic, soul nourishing writing I find myself tempted to edit as I go—which inherently limits the possibility of things flowing through me. When I was writing about finance, I wasn’t as worried about judgement because it felt like offering facts. When it comes to more personal writing, the temptation is to try and control other’s perceptions of how it will land, and to preemptively avoid the pain of judgement by prejudging myself. In talking with many other writers, I know this is not a unique phenomenon.
So often we start writing and stymie ourselves from the next line because we are already editing by judging ourselves or thinking how readers might receive the content. Writing should be raw, wild and untamed. Writing is messy and free, it is the part of ourselves that flows through ferocious scribbles on paper, often in the wave of a strong emotion. It is a channeling of creativity. Think of it like sifting for gold in a creek. If the flow is limited to a trickle, it may feel more manageable, but one might also lose a wealth of possibility that was waiting in the fullness of the flow. We have to open ourselves wholly, to allow things to come through, then the harnessing.
If you are finding yourself stalled out in the creative process, perhaps it’s because you are in the editing archetype rather than the writing, the critic over the muse. Writing is the wild mustang. Editing is the rider. It is a slow, mindful tending, reining in the wild nature, harnessing the power of the words. Editing is pulling the wild unbridled horse of the imagination into a tamed round pen, circulating the thoughts until they emerge clear and precise. But in order to get to the editing, the writing has to flow. You cannot “kill your darlings” so to speak before you’ve had a chance to fall in love with them.
Writing is soul work. Every person has a story written on their soul, a story to share and to be witnessed. I invite you to explore the curiosity of your craft. The blank page can be a container, a vessel, a holding space for the unfolding of alchemy. The pen and the ink, with patience and practice, can allow for a revealing of the soul, where transformations can occur. Some of my best writing happens when I least expect it. Honoring the call to stillness, the invitation to silence, so something bigger can come through, is an ultimate act of prayer. Often I feel struck by a wave of inspiration while out walking the dogs, or in the parking lot of the grocery store, and will sit and type it out in the notes of my phone or on a scratch piece of paper. When I don’t honor that call, the thought is often gone by the time I try to sit and write it.
If you are interested in starting a writing practice, try setting a timer for 5 minutes. I invite you to explore this practice daily for a week and see what reveals itself to you over time. Within the boundaries of those five minutes, don’t let your hand be still. Give yourself over to the flow. Offer what emerges to the blank sheet, letting your hand take over, pen to paper, writing everything that comes to mind without stopping. When the timer is up, walk away. If you want to choose to revisit the paper several days later, harness it in a completely separate document. Be the writer. Then be the editor. So often we rush for the finish line of a perfectly coifed product, ready to be presented to the world. But to get there, it’s so important to honor the inherent wildness in writing—to bare your soul.
An invitation to emptying through writing prompts:
~Imagine walking to a moss-covered well, deep in a beautiful forest. Imagine that well contains all of the wisdom and waters of your soul. If you approach the well with your pen and paper, pulling up a bucket of water, what does your highest self, deep within your soul, want you to know today?
~Journaling on boundaries can be a wonderful visualization for uncovering your limits. Draw a medium sized circle in your journal. On the inside, write everything you are willing to experience. On the outside, write everything you are not willing to experience. You can also have a donut ring around the circle for in-between boundaries, for example: I am willing to experience xyz if these circumstances are present. You can do this with individual people in your life or with yourself. I personally like to do this practice on the full and new moon, imagining that my circle is the full moon, shining illumination on the things I am seeking.
~Separate out the grievances and the gratitudes. Explore having a 3-5 minute timed venting session, where you can pour forth grievances and grief from the day. Then when the timer is up, try writing down 3-5 things you are grateful for throughout the day. This invites a soft and true balance between grief and gratitude that is very human.
~Scroll through a favorite poem book and find one line that resonates for you. Write everything that bubbles up for you in the wake of that poem line. Here’s one of my favorites: Rumi said, “Everything has to do with loving and not loving.” Set a timer with this quote or a different one on the top of your page, and be with the waves of writing that flow forth.
~Combining drawing and writing can be a loving pairing. Draw a small seed on your paper, and then draw the earth and the surface of the dirt. What are you seeding in your life? What is it pushing up against in the earth? When this seed fully transforms into it’s fullest expression, what will it be? A flower? A tree? What is bursting forth in the petals of branches as this seed evolves? You can use the imagery of the seed breaking through the earth and blossoming open to capture seasons of transformation in your own life.
~Meeting the inner child. This prompt is inspired from Francis Weller’s book The Wild Edge of Sorrow. Imagine meeting your inner child, a much younger version of you. If you were to sit with this child in a garden and ask them about their views what would they share? What are this child’s views on love, power, men, women, themselves? What strategies has this child discovered to cope with the world they are living in? For example, perfectionism, people pleasing, withdrawal and how are these strategies working for them? What is the child protecting? As you sit with this child in compassion, what emerges in you as the adult’s body physically, emotionally, mentally? What does this child need to feel safe? Where would you like to imagine this child living in order for them to feel safe and nurtured?
~What is my relationship to writing? Recall a time when you had a writing assignment as a child. What feelings emerged in writing? What feedback did you receive from teachers, parents, peers or other influential people or adults? How did their perspectives color your own perception of your writing? What beliefs do you currently carry around your ability to write?
For some additional starting points to writing prompts check out:
Shiloh Sophia’s curating of consciousness through drawing and writing
Lisa Olivera’s 5 days of journal prompts
