Week 6 of the Artist's Way: cash, paper, bread
whatever you wanna call it. this week's about $$$ MONEY $$$
Hi folks! Through this newsletter I have been sharing my progress with The Artist’s Way, a self-help book for creative recovery by Julia Cameron. You can read more about the decision to start the twelve-week program here.
Folks, we’re halfway through! The sixth week is about "Recovering A Sense of Abundance" and it’s all about MONEY. Do you equate creative work with making less money? Do financial concerns prevent you from making time or space for creativity? These pitfalls can even affect successful artists, who become too preoccupied with work to enjoy former passions and pastimes.
Cameron’s main advice is to allow small luxuries into our life. Fresh raspberries, a bouquet of flowers from the grocery store, a drive to the beach—anything that gives us real joy.
All too often, we become blocked and blame it on our lack of money. This is never an authentic block. The actual block is our feeling of constriction, our sense of powerlessness. Art requires us to empower ourselves with choice. At the most basic level, this means choosing to do self-care.
Upon filling out the “Money Madness” exercise (you can try it yourself here), I grappled with the following thoughts:
If I had money/could afford it, I would quit my job for a year.
I quickly wrote down that I would quit my job with excitement and whimsy. But how am I defining “affording it” or “having money”? I have more than enough for a rainy day fund and have proper retirement investments, yet haven’t made this move nor really have any plans to. Am I defining “having money” as a far-off nebulous amount, like a million dollars?
Being broke tells me I’m a failure.
I have been actively moving away from thinking in pass or fail, black or white categories. Yet nothing would propel me more towards believing I am a failure than having no money. This is learned from my family for sure, growing up with parents that emphasized saving and discouraged unnecessary expenditures (but BLESS MY FINANCIAL SAVVY PARENTS because the thought of not having a savings account at 31 while making $180K is petrifying). Money is security and freedom and it is only because I have it that I feel free to make time and space for creative play.
I’m afraid if I had money I would stay trapped in a cycle of wanting more and fearing losing it.
Despite writing this worry down, I don’t think I deal with wanting more money all that much. Some part of me knows that even if I made double the amount I do now, my saver/hoarder tendencies would override the desire to spend and succumb to lifestyle creep. This is all proof that the fear of losing money is real—it’s why I can’t fathom quitting my job just to quit and be free, or go to graduate school without any guarantees that I’ll like where I end up more than where I am now.
What’s your relationship with money? How do you know you have “enough” of it, or is there never enough? How much of your life choices are calibrated with financial security in mind?
Dance Church
I head to Mark Morris Dance Center this week for my artist date to try a workout called Dance Church, recommended by my friend John. I’m a little skeptical in the way that one is going to Soulcycle, Y7, or other cult-like workouts.
Dance Church is a “guided improvisation dance fitness class.” The instructor covers the studio mirrors with curtains, takes the clock off the wall, and dims the lights. Everyone is barefoot or with socks (no shoes). We get in a circle around the instructor, who tells us to move freely, go at whatever intensity we’d like, and that there will be no talking for the rest of class. Then some Robyn or Icona Pop song starts playing (it probably wasn’t either of those but you get the vibes) and everyone starts writhing and moving like they’re in the privacy of their bedrooms. I feel paralyzed for a few seconds before saying “fuck it” and going off.
The best part of Dance Church is the freedom to move my arms. In my usual dance classes, I can see that I’m frequently cutting off my arm movements or not making them large enough because the power isn’t there, and I get nervous I’ll complete the movements in time. Here the instructor guides us to keep our arms up, then move them left and right, make big shoulder swings, move them up and down. I’ve never moved my arms so much while dancing and it feels so good!
The class is scheduled for ninety minutes. At around thirty minutes (though I can’t be sure since there’s no clock) my bony feet start to hurt from prancing and spinning on the bare floor. My energy level drops; I’m in awe of some of the other dancers in class who are still going at full capacity. We dance for about thirty more minutes, at one point all hugging and touching each other’s knees or elbows to “We Found Love” before breaking away and traveling the room freely. It feels…weird but fun. Pseudo-spiritual. What I imagine Burning Man to be like minus the drugs. The class ends with standard floor exercises and stretches.
I don’t know if I’ll go to Dance Church again by myself, though it would be a blast to go with a friend (hit me up if you’re curious to try!) The accomplishment and performance of dancing to choreography appeals to me more; however I can’t deny the freedom and release I feel from there not being any right or wrong way to move my body.