Jen Knox's Blog, page 19
August 7, 2023
3 of 4: The Alchemy of Creative Living
Time: 13 minutes
Outline: meditation & talk
Get ready to write!
The last installment is next week. Aim to keep momentum till then.
xo Jen
August 6, 2023
On creative trust
What have you done that you previously thought was impossible?
I recall thinking I’d never be able to write coherent sentences, let alone write a book.
I was once sure that I would never get a college degree. I got two.
At one time I was afraid of drowning, so I avoided the pool; some years later, I soared off the high dive. (Okay, maybe soared is an exaggeration, but I dove in my own special way.)
There were times when I thought I’d never forgive another person. Or myself. But I did. I moved on.
All of this took a certain amount of trust that what I saw in front of me was not all there was. An ability to trust, in my experience, is an attribute that fluctuates. But it is especially valuable to creative people, especially writers. After all, as Alan Watts said in so many words, the writer’s job is to describe the indescribable. In other words, to do the impossible.
We have to trust that one word will lead to the next and that the words will provide us with shapes and symbols that allow others to imagine. This is nothing short of magic, and it’s impossible without a little trust.
But let’s talk about the fluctuations.
There were plenty of times that I found myself hiding or taking the familiar route due to a lack of trust, in myself or others. And wow were there a lot of times that I’ve remained quiet as opposed to speaking.
So what is the difference between the days we *soar* from the high dive and the days we run from the water?
Sure, it’s possible that the position of Jupiter and Saturn or the retrogrades of Venus had an impact, but I think other factors were in place. One of which is Necessity. When you are hungry, you find a way to eat. You don’t have time for doubt.
I often showed up when I felt I had no other choice. When I was too broke to indulge my anxiety, I realized the value of pursuing a degree. When I was committed to an event, I showed up. When I told people I was going to study writing and signed up for classes and saw them through. There was always still an opportunity not to show up, but for the most part, the added pressure (positive and not so much) kept me moving forward.
Amy L. Eva at Berkely’s Greater Good Science Center cites perseverance and clarifying values as two of the key differentiators between the days we muster the courage to get out of bed and the days we pull up the covers. I wonder if trust is similar. And I also wonder what role safety plays in complacency.
If we’re comfortable, are we more inclined to play it safe?
Most artists I know want visibility in some ways, but there are often blocks around what comes with it. Exposure brings attention, both wanted and unwanted.
I think it’s important to address this candidly because while it’s tempting and popular to offer advice such as “Speak your truth!” or “Write from the heart,” this isn’t necessarily what is best for us on all days. We have to be ready. We have to practice climbing the ladder and looking down at the water before we make the dive.
As writers, it’s easy to play to the market or society’s mood instead of trusting the true story that wants to come out. Ask the bots what is safe and marketable before making a comment or posting your opinion.
In our day-to-day life, it’s easy to let extremists or famous people, or algorithms run the discourse. It’s easy to placate and avoid others’ emotional triggers. However, to censor ourselves or play to a market pulse is to sacrifice integrity (artistic and personal). And it’s to compromise our creative trust.
We all [okay, most of us] want to do what’s right and cultivate empathy and search for the beauty and nuance that lives in the human condition, but to have a genuine, honest view is to be vulnerable enough to take the dive.
Your artistry is directly connected to your vulnerability. —David Whyte
As we hone our creative, authentic voices, we need to check in with ourselves honestly regularly to ensure we’re not speeding ahead recklessly or playing it safe at our work’s peril.
But fluctuations are real. So how about checking in today … Where are you on the creative trust scale? How much trust do you have in the next sentence and your voice? How much are you holding back?
While I’d like to aim for the conscientious risk-taker each day, I’m not always there. But perhaps the breakthroughs will continue. The trust increases with practice. It increases with need. It increases with genuine inquiry. But it’s never fully guaranteed.
And perhaps the variability is what makes writing, and us, human.
PromptWrite about something that shakes your comfort level a little. TRUST. Get bold. You don’t have to share it. Just see what happens. Give yourself 10 minutes to write with no other aim than to take risks. If you’d like, ceremoniously (but responsibly) burn it all later.
Let me know how it goes.
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August 1, 2023
2 of 4: The Alchemy of Creative Living
Time: 12-15 minutes
Bring a notebook & your attention
Find more meditations here and here.
Next up…Week 3 (8/8): Methods for keeping creative momentumTime: 13 minutes
Get ready to write!
Week 4 (8/15): Your unique creative voiceTime: 10 minutes
Hey, get that notebook again!
I hope you enjoy and appreciate this offering. I hope it offers you a little new perspective as you embark on whatever creative journey you’re on. Comment below if you have questions or feedback.
Music credit: Adrift Among Infinite Stars by Scott Buckley
Music promoted by: https://www.chosic.com/free-music/all/
Creative Commons CC BY 4.0
July 30, 2023
On the writer self, yesterday and today
“I can’t believe I wrote that.”
“Where did that come from?”
“I never thought about it that way before.”
#1. Have you ever written something only to later stand back in awe? I’m not talking about the egotistical kind of awe, but true wonder—a realization that you accessed some truth or insight that was previously inaccessible.
#2. Have you ever written something only to later stand back and see just how underwhelming it was? I’m talking about the kind of writing that you remember feeling so filled with profundity but now, in fact, reads a little shallow or disconnected or self-indulgent.
I recently experienced both.
And while I wish I could say the awe factor has been more prevalent in my literary career in general, underwhelm is right up there, too. Luckily more so with works that are not published. I’ve written many words that I consider filler or, more optimistically, a trail of words that have led me toward more important realizations.
I wrote a considerable amount of climate-based fiction from 2012 to 2016, at a time when the genre was less popular than it is now. I was only a few years out of my MFA, and I was working multiple jobs to pay off debts. My writing happened in early mornings or late hours in our twice-robbed one-bedroom apartment in San Antonio. In fact, one of the robberies forced me to rewrite a few of the stories.
Anyway, I recently revisited a lot of these stories due to a forthcoming republication (I’ll discuss the details later). In so doing, I tapped this awe, though I feared just the opposite would happen.
My initial response was hesitation to return to this older work, but a publisher, Press Americana, expressed a desire to re-release a collection of climate fiction due to its timeliness. When it comes to fiction, I am usually of the mindset that once a thing is done creatively, it’s time to move forward and start the next thing.
Unfortunately for us, climate concerns are more resonant now than they were then, and they were more resonant then than they were when Al Gore was being chastised for holding congressional hearings on human responsibility when it comes to planetary health in the mid-70s before I was born. Climate change will be more topical in five minutes than it is now.
And, due to the “hot topic” of climate change (sorry … I had to), here I found myself leading the unexpected resurrection of older fiction. And wow has offered me quite an interesting journey of discoursing with my former writer self. As I reread, I saw glimpses of insight that seemed beyond my experience at the time. I was busy surviving then, not keeping up with social issues. But the magical/strange stories I wrote then seemed driven by some deeper truth.
If you are organized enough to have older work on your computer or in your files somewhere that you can return to, I invite you to do a search. Try to find something that is five or ten years old, something you saved for some reason at some time. Something you wrote at a time distance just long enough that you can’t remember quite what you were thinking when you wrote it. Read it as objectively as possible and discourse with it. Honestly.
My own experience with this process has been remarkable, especially because while I’ve had to update references and tweak language here and there, I realize both the value of my perspective then and now. I also understand that both moments of underwhelm and awe exist in response to my former writer self, and both are valuable on this artistic journey.
As a person who will never be in danger of hoarding, who eagerly purges and finds Swedish Death Cleaning a genius and comforting practice (metaphorically and in practice), to return to the cluttered art of the past has brought unexpected joy. It’s led me to reevaluate the depth and nuance of my current works in progress.
Prompt: Resurrect old work, no matter how self-indulgent or how profound. Have a dialogue with that work and see if you have anything to add or change or rework.
July 25, 2023
1 of 4: The Alchemy of Creative Living
Hi friends,
For the next four (4) weeks, I’m sharing The Alchemy of Creative Living, a course that I’ve been working on with Insight Timer. Week 1 will be open to everyone. I hope you enjoy it as a stand-alone practice, or as a creative catalyst.
Week 1 (7/25): Releasing comparison & competition (open to all subscribers)Time: 15 minutes
No supplies needed
Reflection question: How does this practice change your perspective on your own work or that of others?
Week 2 (8/1): Learning how to ground & focus despite distractionsTime: 12 minutes
Bring a notebook & your attention
Week 3 (8/8): Methods for keeping creative momentumTime: 13 minutes
Get ready to write!
Week 4 (8/15): Your unique creative voiceTime: 10 minutes
Hey, get that notebook again!
I hope you enjoy and appreciate this offering. I hope it offers you a little new perspective as you embark on whatever creative journey you’re on. Comment below if you have questions or feedback.
xo Jen
Music credit: Adrift Among Infinite Stars by Scott Buckley
Music promoted by: https://www.chosic.com/free-music/all/
Creative Commons CC BY 4.0
July 22, 2023
On softening into the unknown
I’ve recently adopted a new creative practice that came to me organically. It’s an offshoot of a to-do list, and I believe it supports my ability to write consistently despite an impossible schedule (at least lately).
I’m sharing it here in hopes that you, too, will find it useful. But I also share it selfishly, so that I don’t forget.
When I wake up, often around o’dark thirty in the morning (as my mother would say), I walk my dogs, heat tea, and engage in some kind of light exercise, then I make a list. But not a to-do list. Instead, it is a list of possibilities. Once I make said list, I plug my nose and dive into the sea of tasks that await me.
There are many reasons to make lists. According to this article in Psychology Today, lists “organize and contain a sense of inner chaos,” and “separate the minutia from what matters.”
I personally find them helpful for keeping me on track, yes, but I also find it delightful at times to ignore them completely.
Making a list of what we need to do for the day is one thing. Listing possibilities, on the other hand, is another. I’ve started listing the possibilities of the day with less prescription than a standard to-do list (check email, walk the dog, finish edits). Now my lists look more like this:
By the end of the day, I will:
feel accomplished and happy
reconcile open conversations and questions
feel good about the way I connected with my students
get a little clearer on the direction of my novel
You get the idea. I don’t necessarily outline numbers of words or metrics per se, but I focus on how I want to feel. This is the antithesis of a SMART (specific, measurable, accountable, realistic and time-bound) goal. Somehow it changes the weight and the meaning of what I’m doing. Everything feels a bit less transactional and a little more honest.
Prompt: Write a list of the various things you want to feel at the end of the day, creatively and practically, rather than the metrics you want to hit. See if it changes anything in the way you approach your work.
If you try it out, let me know how it goes.
Wishing you well.
xo
Jen
PS - For those of you who enjoy my meditations, I recently released my first course in partnership with AURA and Insight Timer. Check it out here: From Worry to Love.
July 13, 2023
On transitions (with audio)
Our lives are always in transition. It’s just a matter of pacing.
Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of friends and family going through transitions at what seems an accelerated pace (sudden loss, sudden gain, big moves, realizations, etc…).
In my own life, new and amazing (and even intimidating) opportunities are arriving and older patterns are falling away. Some relationships are beginning to fade, while others are joyously deepening.
There is a richness but also an unsettling feeling to major transitions, and I have always believed that times like this offer particularly unique opportunities to kindle the honest artistic voice.
I’m the first to admit, however, that major life shifts are not comfortable. They can feel lonely or enthralling, depending on the way we converse with the world.
According to David Whyte, these are the times we begin the conversation with ourselves. The full poem extracted here is one to savor because it speaks to feelings of connection in a truly unique manner.
Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way of starting
the conversation.
—David Whyte, “Start Close In”
Transitions are a time of heightened emotion and awareness. So, what better time to go return to the personal conversation?
I find the idea of coming back to the discourse we have with ourselves as artists and people a beautiful way of better distinguishing what thoughts and truths are our own, and what we’ve adopted from the noise around us.
To me, competition and qualification are never personal truths. Especially artistic competition and quantification.
I know a woman who told me she felt defeated over the lack of reach of her creative words. But is this defeat truly her own, or is it merely a false idea she can control how many units she is able to sell?
This is where I have no advice but I do have thoughts.
Instead of trying to fit the mold of expectations we think are quantifiable, we are often served by reminding ourselves of the actual questions that live within our art, our work, and our actions in the world ask.
Are we doing the work we feel called to do or replicating efforts on a quest for approval?
Our artistic existence is often defined by times of transition. We can use these times of loss and gain to question and reroot. To strengthen the resonance of our voice.
The personal voice. The honest voice.
Because this is the voice that steers the most fulfilling course and allows things like competition to fall away. Our conversation with ourselves, as Whyte puts it, enables us to realize that no matter who surrounds us and what we are inspired by, everything is an opportunity to sing our song.
Once we can do that, there is no counting or competition. There is a chorus. To sing our songs together is to allow our individual voices to shine in whatever way they are supposed to.
The richness of transitions reminds us of who we are. I hope that if you happen to be one of the many people I know going through one, painful or blissful or terrifying, you can tap its richness by journeying into this personal conversation. Remembering to ask ourselves what expectations we’ve been carrying that are not our own allows us to ground back down into a more honest conversation with ourselves and the world.
Wishing you all good things.
xo Jen
July 11, 2023
Addressing anxious thoughts
Originally published on Insight Timer. I’ll be doing a live talk on my journey on the 21st at 8 a.m. ET.
Ian Stauffer
July 10, 2023
On anxiety & fear
"Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary."
— Fred Rogers
At one time in my life, I suffered debilitating anxiety and panic attacks, and writing got me through. I remember someone recommending that I push through. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Face my fear with courage. And I bought into this idea for many years but couldn’t fully understand why that wasn’t as easy for me as it seemed to be for others.
It took a lot longer to realize that my anxious thoughts and worry were not merely fear. In fact, I was less fearful than I should have been in many cases. When I was younger, I thought being courageous meant taking risks, and I was good at that, but I later realized that what I was actually seeking was adrenaline to combat a more constant and steadier stream of anxiety. I sometimes wonder if this is the case for extreme athletes and all manners of thrill-seeking or extreme ambition.
I have my thoughts.
Anyway, I bring this up to say that facing static fears, to me, is not the same as coping with worry and anxiety. Courage in the face of anxiety and worry, on the other hand, is always about looking within and beyond surface-level advice or thrill-seeking. It’s about allowing a slow and honest process to begin.
And this takes a holistic approach for many of us. At least for me, it was aided, and maybe even guided, by writing. Exploring emotions on the page was a way of connecting to thoughts that felt too extreme to share anywhere else. And they showed up in metaphor, simile, and staccato sentences that overtly stated what I felt.
Worry and anxious thoughts started to fade in my life when I looked at them honestly. Without trying to romanticize or sensationalize them, I was able to find a different way to experience my life.
Photo by Yusuf Evli The Stoic philosophers had a practice of negative visualization in which a person doesn’t force themself to think positively or ignore the sensation. Rather, they indulge the worst-case scenario—allowing it to fully surface. They imagine what it might be like for everything to fall apart, and in so doing, allow a constant soundtrack in their minds to be confronted. Rather than trying to ignore anxiety or shove it down with extreme experience, this practice allows steady confrontation. Honesty. Radical honesty.
And with radical honesty comes a new way to see.
To me, writing demands the same. At least good writing. And I do qualify writing as good or not by the honesty that I feel is the undercurrent of the words. Writing through and to and about emotions is not separate from the art of writing.
Give me something honest, brutally so, and I will give you applause. And I hope you do that for yourself, too.
xo Jen
July 7, 2023
Quick Pick-me-up
Intellectual and creative people especially are notoriously hard on themselves. Let’s take a moment to remember our strength and release any unnecessary rumination.
