Creativity and Healing

According to an article in the June 2008 edition of Scientific American, blogging is good for you! Apparently expressive writing not only serves as a means to cope with stress, but also

• improves memory and sleep

• boosts immune cell activity

• reduces viral load in AIDS patients

• speeds healing after surgery

Furthermore, cancer patients who write just before treatment fare better mentally and physically than patients who do not. Like running, listening to music, and looking at art, blogging might trigger the release of dopamine, a neurotransmitter associated with the pleasure systems of the brain.

Wow! Here I was thinking it would help me, and maybe even help someone else, to put some of my thoughts down on virtual paper and send them out there into the blogosphere, and . . . I was right!

This confirms what I’ve suspected for some time now: that creativity is crucial to healing. I don’t think anyone’s saying that writing or singing or dancing will cure cancer or MS or other illnesses (although I’ve met people who swear it does), but I think it can speed the healing process, possibly prevent illness, or at the very least, help people cope with illness and enjoy better quality of life.

Creativity seems to counteract the stress response, which has been shown over and over again to induce a wide array of illnesses, from heart disease to cancer. When we are working on a creative project, we enter into a state that psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls "flow," during which we are making something happen, rather than passively experiencing the world. Often in these situations we are stretching our abilities while trying to accomplish something challenging but worthwhile to us. We lose track of time, stop thinking about the past and the future, and are completely alive in the present moment. In that way, being creative is like meditating, which also has healing benefits.

Often people who are unwell physically or emotionally feel isolated. Being creative is a form of communication, and although many people are perfectly content to keep their creations to themselves, many others derive immense pleasure from sharing (this is especially true for blogging, where you are potentially—if not actually—sharing your thoughts with millions of people out in cyberspace). Communication, especially in the blogosphere, leads to community, an important marker of health. A study undertaken by Statistics Canada, for example, reported that Canadians who have a strong sense of belonging to the community in which they live experience excellent or very good general health, whereas those with a weak sense of belonging don’t view their health as favorably. Creativity often leads to or is part of community building, which is in turn good for your health.

Finally, creativity is about self-expression. More and more health experts are insisting that one’s ability to express oneself and one’s emotions is crucial to good health, and vice versa, that emotional inhibition can lead to ill health (see, for example, this book, or this one). Creativity is one of the most efficient ways to get in touch with, explore, and express your emotions.

In the past I always believed that creativity was about accomplishing something, some perfect finished product. So for many years I didn’t do anything creative, because the stakes were too high, and I knew I wouldn’t measure up. Now I realize that it’s the process, the pleasure, the enjoyment, the expression, and the communication that count. And certainly when I look back at the times of my life that I loved, they were spent lost in play or creativity. When the demands (some real, most self-inflicted or perceived) of perfectionism come into play, stress starts and can eventually lead to ill health. Real creativity is about getting back to that childhood state when you get lost in the present moment. The big question for me is: can this bring about physical healing? Is anyone else out there finding that creativity is bringing about mental, physical, spiritual, or emotional healing?

The Artist's Way: Week Four

Week four is drawing to an end in a few days and I fear I have failed miserably, at least where the reading deprivation is concerned. I have read every single day. I just can’t not read. Not reading is like camping to me: very uncomfortable and not really worth the effort. That being said, although I couldn’t quit cold turkey, I did manage occasionally not to read at times when I normally would. Twice I managed to go to sleep without reading my novel, and once or twice I managed not to read in the late afternoon when I’m really tired. Once I just sat there and watched my cute pet rabbit. But I did end up watching a little more TV than usual, and one day found myself rather obsessively reading stories online. Maybe I will try the reading deprivation another week, when I feel more capable; this week was rather stressful (one son almost broke his arm in a skateboarding mishap and had to see several doctors before learning that it wasn’t broken--and actually didn't read a single word in the waiting room, even though I brought my book with me--and the other was home sick two days, which wasn’t stressful but did limit what I had planned to do). I'm realizing to what extent reading is a narcotic for me, but hey, whatever gets you through the night. It could be worse.

On a more positive note, I did do morning pages every day, although the day of the almost-broken arm they were cut short. I had planned a great Artist’s Date for yesterday, put it off until today, and have yet again canceled it because my son’s home sick. I’ll try to steal an hour or two tomorrow if I can, but I have no idea what I’ll do. All that comes to mind is the library or a used book store, both of which involve reading, so either I admit complete failure or I find something else. I’m finding the Artist’s Dates the hardest part of this program.

The tasks went well, although I found I had a huge emotional reaction to the letter from my 8-year old self to me now. That was hard, but probably therapeutic.

And finally, in the last 3 or 4 weeks, I’ve written 3 songs. In the past 20 years, I wrote one, despite the fact that my training is in music, I play piano, and I’m a music (history) teacher. I think that’s significant. It’s funny, because I originally planned to do TAW because I feel blocked as a writer (of words) but most of what’s coming out is music. And what’s most amazing is that I’m working on these songs with other people (alone is usually my default setting). At first I was very afraid to do this, but when I gave one of my songs to one of my musician friends, he did amazing things with it; so I brought another unfinished song to another singing partner last night, and together we wrote the words and added some harmony. It was one of the most rewarding creative things I’ve ever done. Maybe I’ll post it after we work on it some more….

Good luck to everyone with the rest of the week.

The Artist's Way: Week Three Roundup

I just finished week three of TAW, and it seemed a more volatile week than the earlier two. I was much more emotional, and felt not totally in control of my emotions. In fact, I was a bit of a basket case. I found the experience rather unpleasant; I felt stressed. Now this might not be completely due to TAW, but I can’t help thinking that it’s at least partially due to the muck-raking taking place in my morning pages. I found that partway through the week I had very little to say in the morning pages, and then at the end of the week a ton of stuff came pouring out, so something was going on there. Again, for the third time in a row, I had a hard time with the artist’s date. I went on a couple of walks (which I do anyway) and decided that that would do for an artist’s date. And I took an amazing nap on Saturday, so I guess that could be an artist’s date too. Before starting TAW I had great ideas about going to the farmer’s market, or to the used bookstore, or the library, or art exhibits, or cafes, or museums…. you get the picture. But it just seems too difficult to fit those kind of trips in, and it’s so much more comfortable just to walk. Or sleep. I’m not sure if I’m “cheating” or if I was just expecting too much of myself.

For my hour of artist brain activity I played around with the playlist I’m putting together for my friend’s birthday. To me making playlists is a very creative activity: I check that each song follows nicely from the previous one, and that the overall message or narrative works, and that the songs won’t give any kind of negative message, and so on. I actually love making playlists for friends, and for that matter for myself (although I hardly ever do).

The thoughts about childhood I found rather difficult. I had a hard time coming up with five things I like about myself as a child, which I found rather sad, and the food I ate from my childhood turned out not to be quite as good as I remembered: a sandwich made from white bread, mayo, a processed cheese slice, iceberg lettuce, and ruffle potato chips. I’m not sure why I expected it to taste good, although I do remember loving to eat those sandwiches at my best friend’s house when I was young, and craving them during my pregnancies. Blech.

A strange object came to me in a dream one night too, a delicate gold Star of David that I think I may have worn on a necklace when I was very young. The image was extremely vivid in the dream; the gold was bright, thin and crenelated, and so fragile and easy to bend. I’m sure it’s some kind of link to the spirituality inherent in TAW, but I’m not sure exactly what the connection is.

Tomorrow I’m starting week four, in which we must suffer reading deprivation. This is filling me with dread, as I am indeed addicted to reading, but I’m going to give a try anyway. It’s only one week….

Finally, a note about the timing: my friends at The Artist’s Way blog are taking two weeks to complete each of the first four weeks, which is a fantastic idea. I’m worried that with my work schedule I’ll be needing to take extra time in November to complete the tasks, so I’m barging ahead with the folks at The Creativityist now, so that I won’t feel so guilty when I fall behind in a month or two.

Have a great week everyone!!

Finding balance in life: tai chi

In my seemingly neverending (alas!) quest for lasting pain relief (I have fibromyalgia) I have recently started practicing the Chinese martial art tai chi. I am by no means an expert on the subject, and have only taken two classes so far (although my husband has been practicing for two years now) but from what I’m learning and observing, tai chi is basically slowed down kung fu, used primarily not for self-defense but rather as a moving meditation that results in many health benefits, including better circulation, better balance, increased strength and flexibility, and more. The student learns a series of 108 movements, which are strung together in a fluid and continuous manner to make a sort of slow-moving dance. In addition to these movements are some foundation exercises and breathing exercises. According to my teacher, it takes one year to learn the movements and 99 to master them.

One of the purposes of tai chi is to circulate vital life energy (chi) through the meridians of the body. According to my teacher, pain indicates blockage; through the practice of tai chi we can learn to unblock the energy and get it circulating again, thus reducing the pain. According to my physiotherapist (who recommended the teacher), the energy meridians often referred to in the Chinese healing arts (tai chi, acupuncture, acupressure) correspond closely to our nervous and vascular systems. The practice of tai chi can ameliorate poor posture, alignment, and patterns of movement, all things I have been working on with my “Western” osteopath and physiotherapist.

People have often recommended tai chi to me because it is gentle and slow, and because you move at your own pace. However what I noticed during the very first class was that inherent in the slow, smooth, reflective movements was a sort of aggression, assertiveness, or even violence. Now on the one hand that shouldn’t be surprising, given that tai chi is a martial art; however it is usually thought of as a soft, or inner martial art. Still, this balance between aggression and meditation struck me as extremely interesting. I think I’m beginning to understand the underlying principles of yin and yang, the duality that is often evoked in Chinese martial arts and medicine. As my teacher explained, you can’t really achieve yang, or that kind of outward, assertive, efficient energy, unless you have fully attained yin, or that soft, relaxed, meditative quality. As a musician I can draw an analogy with playing the piano. If you bang out loud, hard, passages on the piano, you end up injuring yourself unless you are in a completely relaxed state. If you stay tensed at all times, the music suffers and so do you. Similarly, if you watch Roger Federer play tennis (for example), you can see that he is completely relaxed and focused, and that it’s precisely this state that allows him to seemingly effortlessly hit winning shots over and over again. The man doesn’t even sweat, or look like he’s working hard!

I’ve spent the past two years, almost, trying to unwind, to achieve a meditative state where my nervous system is calm and I have some sort of inner peace, all in the hopes of reducing my physical pain (and because the pain keeps me from doing more active things). Frankly, I’ve had enough of stillness. Not that I want to go back to my old Type A craziness, but a little balance would be nice: I’m ready to fully embrace life again, but without driving myself as hard as I used to. Although I’ve been interested in tai chi for some time now, I was worried, or perhaps disappointed, that I was taking up yet another calming, meditative endeavor. It seems that tai chi is that, but it’s more, too. It’s balance: between yin and yang, between inner calm and outer action. I think the key is that the outer action is controlled, efficient, and always coming out of and going back to the inner calm. I think this might be the key to achieving balance in other areas of life too. In terms of pain relief, well, that remains to be seen. The teacher says that it’s a long slow process, so check back in in a few months or a few years. All I can say now is that a few months ago I didn’t think I was physically capable of starting a new physical activity; at the moment I’m a little more hopeful. Perhaps tai chi will give me the balance I need to deal with life in a new way.

The Artist’s Way: Week Two (postscript)

I finished week two of TAW a couple of days ago. As I have already written about some of the experiences I had during the week here,I’ll keep this wrap-up short and sweet. What stands out for me in retrospect is the synchronicity that Cameron talks about, and the way that synchronicity is linking two important areas of my life: healing and creativity.

My decision to do TAW program itself arose out of a sort of synchronicity. My brother and his wife split up a year or two ago. Since they had always lived overseas, I didn’t know my sister-in-law very well, having only met her a few times. (Strangely, although we lived at opposite ends of the world, we had both chosen the same dishes for our wedding registries: the first synchronicity!) I always felt bad that I had never really gotten to know my sister-in-law, and worse that she and my brother got divorced. So at some point I sent her a little email message, and somehow we connected. I showed her some of my writing (on this blog) and she shared with me her dream of being a dancer and quitting her job to teach dancing. She recommended TAW. From one recovering creative person to another, with my brother as the unknowing hub.

Since starting TAW September 1st I have noticed several more explicit incidents of synchronicity. To begin with, as I was starting I found two other groups online who were starting Aug. 31st and Sept. 1st: here and here. I wasn’t looking for them at all, but literally just stumbled upon them. It’s great to be doing TAW as part of these communities, especially when I started out fully expecting to be on my own.

Last week for my artist’s date I went to get a massage. Since I was seeing a new massage therapist, I had to explain to her my history of chronic pain. We briefly discussed pain management techniques, and she asked me if I did a lot of reading on the subject (which I have). She then said that if she could recommend only one book, it would be . . . The Artist's Way. In fact, she even said it would cure me.

Now people have recommended many books to me over the years in connection with my back problems and chronic pain, but this is the first time that someone has recommended TAW in connection with physical healing. Which confirms my belief that burnout, fibromyalgia, and probably many other health issues are symptoms of spiritual crisis, and creativity is the path to healing. I know that sounds flaky, and would never have said something like that 2 years ago. Oh well, say hi to the new me!

The Artist's Way: Week Two: thoughts at midweek

What I’ve enjoyed most about this week so far is trying to find little bits of time in which to do things that you want to do but never manage to get around to. I’m finding this much easier than the Artist’s Date, which I think last week made me feel pressured to “do” something and “enjoy” it (perhaps one of these spontaneous activities will become my Artist's Date this week). So far I’ve gone for a walk by a lake near my house, which is something I do regularly, but this time I decided to grab my camera and take some pictures. I’m by no means a photographer, and I own a pretty basic point-and-click camera with a few options, but I do enjoy taking pictures, something I haven’t done (not including Christmas and my kids’ birthday parties and so on) for, oh, about 20 years. When you walk with a camera, you see things differently, even if you’re walking in places that are very familiar to you. For instance, I love the textures of the plants in these photos:






































Or the fact that this sign, full of interdictions, is being overtaken by nature regardless:
























You can see some of the other photos from my walk here.

I also managed to put on my ipod while making dinner one night, and even sit on my patio for a few minutes once everything was in the oven, listening to music and watching the clouds drift over the tree in my backyard. Bliss.

Finally, and this one is pretty lame and a tiny bit embarrasing, I wore a funky hat one day. I never wear hats (unless it’s winter and I have to in order to survive, living as I do in Canada), and I happened to buy one for $10 on a whim recently, and, self-conscious though I was, it was a huge hit at work, and no-one made fun of me.

The Artist's Way: Week One Roundup

This is the end of my first week of The Artist's Way (TAW from now on). (You can read about the basics of TAW here.) It’s been a really interesting experience so far. Even though I’ve been doing morning pages all summer, somehow doing them in combination with the tasks set out for this week led to much deeper insights than I was having during the summer. For instance, this week we were supposed to identify our inner critics, censors, and enemies, those usually inaudible voices in our heads that keep us from being who we are and who we want to be. This exercise takes us back in time to our early conditioning; this can be a scary and painful place to visit, but in the end so worthwhile. Without getting too personal, I can say that my biggest blocks are fear of hurting other people, fear of others being envious of me, fear of not being seen or heard for who I am, fear that I’m not good enough, that I need to prove myself, fear that pursuing artistic pursuits is childish (which, ironically, it is, but what’s wrong with that?!?). In short, FEAR keeps me blocked. I spent a lot of time this week looking closely at where and when and why these fears originally took root. According to TAW, we need to change these fears/negative thoughts/enemies/critics/censors into affirmations; she provides a list of 20, but of course you can come up with your own. The affirmations that most resonated with me were:

• As I create and listen, I will be led.
• My creativity heals myself and others (a nice antidote to my fear of hurting others).
• I am allowed to nurture my artist.
• My creativity leads me to forgiveness and self-forgiveness.
• I am willing to learn to let myself create.
• I am willing to experience my creative energy.
• I am wiling to use my creative talents.

Cameron involves God in many of her affirmations. As you can see from my list, I tend to shy away from those ones. I guess I need to explore my feelings about this at some point. I do believe that creativity is a spiritual endeavor, but I’m uneasy with the notion of God. I did come up with an affirmation or two of my own. My favorite one is “Shine on you crazy diamond.” Sounds weird, and I know it was already said by Pink Floyd, but it captures the sense I have of having buried my own creative “diamond,” or really myself, deep in the dirt, hiding it. I have an image in my mind of gradually exposing that diamond, no matter how “crazy” it is. If people don’t like it, they don’t have to look.

The Artist’s Date I found a bit more challenging. The idea is to spend a couple of hours alone with yourself doing something that you wouldn’t normally do. First of all I really resisted doing this; it felt like a chore and I wanted to just call other things that I ended up doing during the week the artist’s date, after the fact (for instance, one day I had 10 minutes to kill so I went to Chapters for a tea; afterwards I thought, “Hey, that could be an artist’s date.”). I finally ended up doing one of the things that I had put on my list of possibilities (a trip to a nearby town on the water, where there’s a department/gift store dating from 1900 that’s supposed to be quaint and interesting, and a boardwalk along the water with an organic food market), and I had a really bad time. If it were a real date I wouldn’t call that person again, because I ended up feeling anxious, confused, alienated, and lonely. I have a few ideas about why, but I’ll save those for another time. Ironically, after coming home from my date, I ended up doing two other things that were really gratifying: I wrote a song that I actually kind of like (I haven’t done that in almost as long as I can remember), and I made a playlist for a good friend of mine that I’m going to burn onto a CD and give to her as a birthday gift. I guess the Artist’s Date forces us to confront ourselves, and learn about who we are, how we like to spend time, how we sometimes feel compelled to do things that maybe aren’t the best for us. Next week I think I’ll go to a used book store for an hour, or spend some time making up playlists for friends, which is creative in its own way but not stressful.

So that’s it for me. I’d love to hear from everyone else: did anyone else have any similar experiences? Different? I feel rather vulnerable exposing myself here, but I assume that might be the case for others too. Finally, a word to my readers who might not be doing TAW: I would highly recommend this process regardless of if you feel yourself to be a blocked artist. It’s really about discovering you and your voice.

A Sad Summer Story

While my 13 year-old son Joe was away at overnight camp, the unspeakable happened. One of his good friends, another 13 year-old boy—talented, athletic, popular, already sporting a 6-pack—died. Another mom, one of my closest friends, heard it on the news a few days before our kids were scheduled to come home, and for those few days we cried and wondered if, in this era of instant communication, the boys would hear the bad news while at camp, despite the camp's ban on cell phones and other electronic devices. As the day of their return drew closer we grew more anxious, wondering how we would break the news and how the kids would react. While I cried for the boy's family and friends, I also shed a few selfish tears for my son, for his grief and for the adult burden he would bear of attending the funeral of a peer.

Joe had gone to overnight camp for the first time this year. Although I was a little anxious, as most mothers are, I must say it was a well-deserved break. You see, one day in March Joe had come downstairs for breakfast, suddenly transformed into an adolescent: his voice deeper than my husband's, his clothing too small and certainly nowhere near cool enough, his attitude somewhat, shall we say, pronounced. These early months of adolescence have been trying, to say the least. Every day we do a little dance, my son and I: I approach him, he pushes me away, I retreat, he comes slowly forward, I advance to meet him, he backs off. Every day there is a testing of the limits and boundaries, and every day I get to play the dispassionate cop (who of course is really seething under her cool façade). Frankly, it's as exhausting as it is mundane, this balancing act between childhood dependency and adult independence.

His newfound need for autonomy was brought painfully home the morning I dropped him and his two good buddies at the bus pickup for camp. We had just spent several days planning, shopping, chopping, cooking, labeling, packaging, freezing, and packing the food he would take to camp: Joe has multiple severe food allergies, so we opted to prepare all of his food for the two weeks, in order to avoid any accidents. We also shopped for clothing, duffle bags, crocs, rain gear, and so on, and, like parents everywhere at this time of year, labeled and laundered every item. Not that I expected or needed a sign of gratitude; our job is to keep him safe, and we were happy to do it. Like all parents, we want our kids to experience life without worrying about the ever-present, if rarely seen threat of danger, illness, or even death. But nevertheless, there it was, the parents working themselves to the bone to get the kid safely off to camp. After signing the boys in and transferring the luggage and the food, we watched them mill about for a half hour or so before being called to board the bus. I admit, at that point I was expecting at least a terse good-bye, and maybe even a teensy hug; it was, after all, the first time we were to be separated for so long. His response to the call to board the bus? "Finally!" as he and his friends stomped off, with nary a backward glance.

So I was comfortable knowing that he would be back in 2 weeks and we would all be rested and ready to start the adolescent dance again. I don't feel guilty admitting I enjoyed our time apart, knowing of course that he was safe and sound and enjoying the great outdoors and exercising those independence muscles every day. And when the day of his return came, I couldn't wait to see him and hear all about his adventure. I tried to focus on the good stuff and let the sad story of his friend emerge in its own time.

And indeed, upon his arrival, the dance began again: we prepared a nice BBQ dinner, but he insisted on catching up on his neglected candy habit before joining us, sending my husband's blood pressure skyrocketing. For my part, however, I remained calm: who cares about candy? My son was safe at home. After dinner Joe went to the computer to catch up with friends on Facebook and MSN; I saw this as my opportunity to tell him the bad news before he heard it electronically. I'll never forget his expression after I told him. He looked at me in disbelief: "Steve? Steve is dead?" I could relate all too well to his complete and utter inability to understand the statement; after all, how could a 13-year old just stop being? It defies explanation. To say a child is dead is to pronounce an oxymoron; nothing channels life like a thriving young teenager.

The following day my son spent with his friends, first at the church, then at the local pool, which held a memorial for their lost swimmer, who, in death's tragic irony, had died in the water while on vacation. I'm all for letting go and watching my son transition into the man he will become, but this was not how I had conceived of his initiation into the world of adult reality. Every parent does everything possible to keep their children safe and happy; despite our best efforts, all of that can change in an instant. Watching my son go through that sad day with grace and dignity, I vowed to see our daily struggles in a new light: what a privilege to fight with him about candy, to discuss acne creams and body sprays, to argue about bed time and loud music. What a privilege to continue the adolescent dance, clumsy as it is at times. What a privilege to watch him grow up.

The Artist's Way

Today is my first official day following The Artist's Way, a 12-week program developed by writer Julia Cameron that purports to unblock the participant’s creativity. It is, as the book’s cover says, “A Course in Discovering and Recovering Your Creative Self”; “A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity.” The program has apparently helped many thousands of people—writers, musicians, artists, dancers, you name it—recover their inner Creator, and I’m hoping it will do the same for me. Two people have recommended the book to me; one is now an award-winning author of young adult literature, and the other, a single mother of four young children, has recently taken up dancing and is training to become a full-time dance teacher.

There are two constant elements to the program, as well as additional tasks that vary from week to week. The first of the two elements is the daily writing of “morning pages,” three pages of stream-of-consciousness, uncensored brain dump that you do ideally first thing in the morning. I’ve actually been doing the morning pages since June, when I first purchased Cameron’s book. However I haven’t often been able to do them first thing in the morning because a) I like to sleep in and b) I usually have a fair bit to do in the morning, including kicking my youngest son off the computer so that I can get at it to do my morning pages. This, however, will change in the very near future, as I have recently built myself an office in my basement, bought myself my own computer, and am planning to wake up at 6:00 if I feel I can manage it. That way I really can do the morning pages first thing in the morning without being disturbed. The idea here is that you get all the crap and trivia that usually swills around your brain all day long out and on to the pages first thing in the morning, a sort of mental housekeeping and de-cluttering that frees your mind for creativity. You also get used to just sitting at the computer (or in front of a piece of paper, whatever you prefer) and writing, regardless of if you’re in the mood, inspired, have something to say, or not. Finally, in doing the morning pages you bring to light some of the stuff lurking in your subconscious; instead of weighing you down by hiding in the depths, the stuff comes out and you can decide what to do with it. The writing of morning pages acts as both therapy and meditation. That alone makes it worthwhile, regardless of its impact on your creativity.

The second constant of The Artist's Way is the “artist’s date.” I’m totally looking forward to this. Each and every week, you put aside a certain amount of time, perhaps two hours, to take yourself, and no-one but yourself, on a date. This should be something fun, not a duty. I’m considering going to buy underwear as one of my artist’s dates, but I realize that if I do, it has to be because I want to go try on frivolous, fun lingerie, not because I’m desperate to replace the graying fading items in my underwear drawer (which I am). Other options I’m considering are going to the farmer’s market, going to an old-fashioned department store in a little town near me that I’ve never been to even though I’ve lived here for 8 years, going to a flea market, going shopping in the trendy part of town, and going to see a movie in the afternoon. You don’t have to spend money; you can go for a walk somewhere you wouldn’t normally go, browse at a used book store, go to a free museum, or whatever catches your fancy. The artist’s dates are sort of a complement to the morning pages: in the morning pages you put ideas out there, and on your date you are open to receive new ideas and images and sensory input to replenish your “artist’s well.” I have to say that when I think of taking myself on a date, I feel like I’m young and carefree again, which I’m sure will be conducive to creativity. I also feel a little guilty and a little pressed for time, but I know that the world won’t stop if I take 2 hours a week for myself. I’m not even going to tell anyone about it. I’ll just do it.

In addition to the morning pages and the artist’s dates, Cameron assigns homework every week. For the first week, for example, there are a number of tasks that involve reflecting on people in your past who have been unsupportive or downright critical or negative towards any creative urges you expressed, and also acknowledging those who have encouraged you. She also wants you to become aware of your “censor,” the little voice inside your head that criticizes you at every step; in analyzing this voice and looking at its origins, you can transform the criticisms into positive affirmations: “How can you write, you have no talent” becomes “I am a very talented writer.” I admit that this exercise struck me as a little hokey to begin with, but when I started listening to my inner critics I was extremely surprised at what exactly they were saying, and how some of the affirmations in Cameron’s list worked so perfectly to counter these beliefs. For example, I realized that I’m afraid I’ll hurt people with my anger and harshness if I write the truth as I see it; one of her affirmations states “My creativity leads me to forgiveness and self-forgiveness.” I’m also afraid that I’m being selfish and self-centered by following my passions; one of her affirmations states “I am allowed to nurture my artist.” Even writing that sentence, I hear a voice in my head saying, “But you’re not an artist, stop being so pig-headed!” To which I say that everyone has a right to devote time to their muses, regardless of their level of talent of potential for financial gain or what have you. Everyone is creative; nurturing the creative side of you is a deeply spiritual activity.

Finally, at the end of each week, you “check in” with yourself by answering a series of questions and reflecting on the past week. Apparently people experience similar emotions at similar times throughout the program: at week four people feel angry, at week seven, sad or exhilarated or whatever.

I’m pretty excited to be starting this program, and I’d love to hear from anyone out there who is also doing it or who has already done it!