Note: I've been thinking a lot about creativity recently. Today, I'm republishing a blog from my art site Creative Spirits Unleashed, because sometimes, you just have to start.
Originally published February 2015.
Recently I drove by a Michael’s craft store that I visited only once. It brought back memories that made me smile and helped me remember that a creative journey starts with baby steps.
It was on one of my first trips to our newly acquired lake house, (more like a fishing shack) and the longing to be an artist was just germinating. The problem was that I had no idea what to do. I kinda, sorta wanted to paint. But to paint what? With what?
So into Michaels I went in search of inspiration. At this stage of my creative journey, just being in the store with the intention to “create” was daunting. Eventually I landed in the scrapbooking section because I liked the pretty papers. And it didn’t involve buying paint, paper, and who knew what else. Easy seemed like a good idea at this point.
On the paper aisle, an idea dawned. I could take those blank cards over there and glue that pretty scrapbook paper on the front in different shapes. Scissors and glue sticks seemed accessible in the face of my unadulterated intimidation.
How could such a simple desire as wanting to be an artist cause my heart to feel like it was going to beat out of my chest?
Since that weekend when I cut up a storm and glued paper like crazy so much has transpired. Eventually I took a watercolor class. Then another. During one particularly difficult class, a great weight was lifted when I realized it was just paint and paper. So what if it wasn’t good? That’s what trashcans are for. So I kept painting and with time, I’ve been happy with what has landed on the paper.
Then came the clay studio. Once again I entered a foreign land and went through the agony and joy of being a beginner. Nothing worked right at first, yet over time, what seemed un-learnable has become second nature.
No one comes out of the gate a creative genius. As Ira Glass said in this NPR clip, we all have to go through some pretty bad stuff to get to the good stuff. That’s the journey. That’s the joy and yes, agony. Yet how else is a work of creation to speak to us if it doesn’t hold all of the emotions, including those we deem “bad?”
What are you waiting for? So what if you can’t do it well? Just start.
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Lynn Carnes accelerates change and unleashes leadership performance in organizations, especially in context of challenges without easy answers. She loves to hear about how your experiments with these ideas turn out. To contact her or share your experiences email email@example.com
The lesson of power of context keeps coming back to me. One of my first experiences in seeing how context can change everything came when living in Charlotte, right after I got my first car with a key fob that unlocked my car. (Ok, this was a long time ago!) I asked my husband “Is it possible for someone else’s key fob to open my car?” His answer was that is was possible but not likely. Still, I wondered. Then a few days later, I was shopping near an Old Navy, and popped open my presumably empty trunk to load my purchases. What I saw hit me in the gut: A stack of clothing with a receipt on top. The kicker? It was an Old Navy receipt. What the heck? I turned around and saw the Old Navy store, and immediately KNEW that someone had just left them in my car. Trying to be a good citizen while being thoroughly freaked out, I took the clothes back in the store, explaining that someone had accidentally locked them in my car, and would be back looking for them. Weird, we all thought, but they must have a similar key fob.
A few days later, one of my neighbors called to say thank you for taking her to get her daughter after a fender bender. Then she said: “By the way, I left some clothes we were planning to return to Old Navy in your trunk. Can I come by to get them?” Imagine how difficult it was to explain to her that those clothes HAD been returned – but just not in a convenient way for her. Well, dang. Seems context and fear got all crossed up and what looked like a good citizen move was my fear brain making up stories.
Never again, I said. From now on, I will Check. It. Out.
Immediately I applied this learning to a corporate situation. At the time, I had a national role with a large bank in training new college graduates to be bankers. Recognizing that one of their most important skills would be evaluating the health of a business from the financial statements, we were always on the search for good ways to help them be better in accounting. We found a one-day program that simplified things by having them run a lemonade stand like a kid. It was a fun and engaging program that taught big lessons in an appealing way. Or so we thought. The first time we ran it, we simply informed the 120 students what time and where to be for their Friday session.
When they came back on Monday for their next level accounting intensive, our team was expecting a big thank you for giving them such a fun and informative day of non-boring accounting lessons. What we got instead were offended, angry and insulted future bankers. Huh? When our team debriefed after hearing from the students, we realized that we had given NO context for WHY they going to a program that treated them like kids. We had used the “just the facts” approach and it bombed.
A few weeks later, the second group of trainees came through and we applied what we had learned. In addition to the what, where and when for the accounting program, we said this: “One of your most important roles as a banker will be in learning to be insightful in your analysis of your client’s financial statements. We know you have all had accounting, so this is nothing new. However, we are going to be moving very quickly and deeply into some complicated aspects of reading financial statements. So, as a fun way to dust off your accounting skills, we are giving you a fun way to refresh your memory with a game.”
This time was different. On Monday, they came back full of excitement and gratitude for a useful day. The only difference was in the how we described the program. We set the context differently, and they responded in ways that helped them for the rest of their twelve-week program. Aha, I thought, I have mastered context. And for many years, I carried that belief.
Then came the turtle incident. Or maybe you would call it a ski incident. For most of that summer, we had seen a large painted turtle sitting on a log near where we drop to rest and shorten the rope. We had even named him. One day, my husband was driving, and I dropped in the water, noticing that the turtle wasn’t there. (And wondered exactly where was he? If not on the log, was he somewhere under me?) As I pushed my back foot into the toe piece, I heard a click. “Well there you are, Mr. Lucky!” thinking that he must have surfaced and his shell hit my ski. So I said “hit it” pretty quickly because, even though I like turtles, I didn’t really want to sit near a big one in the water.
As I crossed the first wake, I took one of my biggest crashes ever. While I was not injured, it certainly shook me up enough to not ski again that day. The next day, we visited another lake to ski. As I got in the water and pushed my back foot into the toe piece, I heard the same click as the day before. My first thought was “What? They have turtles too?” Thanks to the context, I immediately realized what a stupid thought. My front foot had unclipped from the release.
All of the sudden, the events of the day before made sense. This was not a turtle incident. This was a ski incident. My crash was directly attributable to having my ski unclipped from the boot. It was preventable, but I missed critical data because I over relied on the context of the situation without thinking things through. Instead of being curious about what else could have made a click, once again my fear and context got all crossed up. My brain took a shortcut, and without me being mindful to override the lazy conclusion, I took an unnecessary fall. Replacing a worn out release solved the problem. Wish I had been more curious before the bad fall!
Where do we let context create conclusions that are not useful? In what ways does our "lazy brain" take shortcuts that ultimately hurt us? How can we learn to be mindful in how we set context in our communications? In what ways can we recognize and learn to see those little fear incidents that are not even real? What stories are we making up and do we even check them out?
The stories we make up influence our outcomes. Context shapes our stories – and we can shape context. All it takes is a moment and the willingness to see it.
Know someone who would love this article? Email or share below!Lynn Carnes accelerates change and unleashes leadership performance in organizations, especially in context of challenges without easy answers. She loves to hear about how your experiments with these ideas turn out. To contact her or share your experiences email firstname.lastname@example.org
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