Making space for what's important

An exercise for creative overwhelm

Every autumn I try to grasp onto the ephemeral—the vivid reds and yellows of falling leaves, the carved pumpkins on brownstone doorsteps grinning as I walk by, the scent of cooked apple and cardamom spiced oatmeal in the kitchen. I wish the warmth of my favorite season could stretch into the dark expanse of winter, but these moments feel precious precisely because they are temporary.

If I really stop to think about it, only moments that are meant to fade get stored into our memories. These too fade, and I helplessly grasp at them as I document my fleeting emotions, thoughts, and observations. If I were to let my memories fly free, where would they go? What would remain of myself?

At the start of this year I polled readers on their greatest ongoing struggle in making art. Many of you struggled with overwhelm in deciding where to focus. I believe this sense of overwhelm comes from our hesitation to let go. Whether we’re holding on too tightly to an idea, a process, an identity, or even our sense of time, this tight grip fears that letting go of something leads to inevitable loss.

My memories don’t feel as though they’ve been pulled up by the root. Even if they fade, something remains. Like tiny seeds that might germinate again if the rain falls. And even if a memory disappears completely, the heart retains something. A slight tremor or pain, some bit of joy, a tear.

— Yoko Ogawa, The Memory Police

A moodboard of autumn memories

In the few weeks since I’ve left the corporate world, I’m realizing the wide expanse of possibility that opens when I allow myself to unlearn. What could it mean to read a page from a book, then stare at my own blank page and see what unfolds from the movement of my hands? What if I could hold back from harming my joints by going deeper in a yoga pose and rely on a prop instead? Instead of cramming more into my pages, to my hours, to my life, I get curious about leaving more space.

Let’s flip the script: rather than fitting everything in, how about we clear space? We could finish a nearly complete project in order to till the soil for something new. We could accept that a long-held goal isn’t happening anytime soon and archive our notes. By way of surrender, we can instead gain a radical sense of spaciousness and possibility.

As I revise this post in the wake of this week's election results, the act of letting go takes on new meaning. The point of making space is not just for our own ease and comfort. Instead we want to cultivate our ability to show up fully for what matters.

In times of heartbreak and uncertainty, our art practice becomes both anchor and catalyst. We can't afford to be caught in the cycle of busyness—not when our creative voices are urgently needed.

EXERCISE:

This week, make a list of unfinished or recurring creative projects that have been weighing on you. For each one, ask yourself: Is this project still speaking to me right now? If not, what compels me instead? How can I release or archive this project in a simple, easeful manner so I can make more space for what’s important?

Here’s a list of my unfinished projects:

• A half-finished painting from last year

  • I am still interested in finishing this painting, but have been intimidated by painting water reflections. For now I will archive this painting in my portfolio folder with the intention to return to it after more practice.

• “Making Comics” Club, a recurring IRL drawing hang

  • After seven monthly meetings of “Making Comics”, I’m feeling less excitement about the club format. But I still find it energizing and meaningful to bring people together to draw, so I am going to pause for a month or two and regroup with a new type of event series early next year.

• Video footage from travel to make into reels or Youtube videos

  • I am not as excited about making video content as I was before, but I would like to get these videos off my camera roll. I will release some footage by making them into shortform videos and archive the rest in my external hard drive.

If you find that the answers don’t come immediately as you move through this exercise, the answer is likely “no” or “not right now.” Try sitting with no and see what comes up. You will probably resist. Where is the resistance coming from? Is it a lack of self-trust, a clinging onto an identity, or a fear of disappointing others? Remember that even as we let go, the heart retains what it needs to hold.

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In the spirit of making space, I'll be taking a break from the newsletter for the rest of November while I travel for family. In the past I’ve batch scheduled posts during travel periods, but I’d like to experiment with fully stepping away this time!

In the meantime I have plenty in my newsletter archives for you to read and chew on, like these posts below:

When disappointment abounds

Try this alternative media detox

The luxury of time and space

Quitting projects is great, actually

Thank you for your understanding! Take care and I’ll see you in December 👋