From Scattered to Centered
How chaos factors into the creative process
I’m back to feeling scattered. Is this an ongoing theme here? I detest feeling disorganized, but I find it, so far, to be an unavoidable aspect of creative process.
I prefer focused states and the pressure of deadlines. I prefer important projects requiring my full attention. I prefer having an excuse to avoid what I don’t want to do. I even prefer having an excuse to avoid leisurely things I do like doing because I fundamentally value productivity.
Last week was the first week without a pressing deadline in months. All of the neglected little to-do’s I’ve been waving to, smiling at, and otherwise avoiding—began wrestling for my attention as soon as they noticed I wasn’t fully engaged. Hence the feeling of chaos. I ticked away a few boxes, but mostly I watched my ideas wrestle for my attention all week.
This made me wonder: how is the conductor in me, the maestro, who keeps my life flowing harmoniously? The vibe: Tired.
Twenty years ago I was in charge of a small studio apartment and my career. It wasn’t that much to keep track of. This is no longer the case.
I learned a lot this year about what energizes my inner-maestro and what distracts. I appreciate my ability to focus on projects, but when I’m in a deadline lull, and the thirty-thousand things which have been on the back burner need to be addressed, they weigh on me.
Without deadlines I often become stunned, sort of frozen and vibrating, and it feels like I have to break free of a turbid plasma in order to move. I often feel less than, not good enough. I sense my desire to know more than I do. I sink into reading until I can’t keep my eyes open.
Yesterday, I meditated on the feeling of exhaustion permeating my central column. I rested my attention away from my low-level to do’s and into my center. The center of my forehead, behind my eyes, down my throat, into my chest and low belly.
With my consciousness concentrated in my center, I imagined a conductor directing all the aspects of my life. I pictured an orchestra and categorized all of these aspects into sections.
Now, I understand why my Maestro is exhausted.
A revelation involved acknowledging the role distractions play.
I put classical music on.
I did yoga: sun salutations, standing poses, backbends, seated forward folds.
I’m back to feeling more steady. Sometimes I avoid the yoga, but once I’m on the mat, I have to acknowledge, it really is effective.
Feeling centered doesn’t simply mean feeling in control; it means—less static—more music; it means standing on my head and wiggling my toes; it means blessing what keeps me up at night.
May you be blessed with freedom and the clarity to know what you want to do with it.
Some things that inspired me this week:
