art

Keep writing

As I said in Evolution of a Blog Pt. 1, I’ve been publishing daily blog posts for a long time on Meditations of a Gentle Warrior. In addition to publishing to my website, I also post my writing on social media. Social media being what it is, when people feel so inclined, they comment on what I post. 

Over the years, the feedback I’ve received has been mostly positive, which is nice. It’s good to know that others find value in my work. But since feedback is not the primary aim of my writing, I tend to glance at it, acknowledge it, and then move on. I suppose I’m afraid that if I get too caught up in what others think, it will change the way that I write, so I try to take it with a grain of salt.

That doesn’t mean the feedback goes unnoticed and unappreciated. It actually means a lot to me when someone takes the time to tell me they like what I am doing. At the very least, it’s reassuring, but it can also be fuel to keep going. I’m only human and, like most people, I feels good to be acknowledged for the work I’m doing, even if I make a concerted effort to not let it get to my head. 

When I receive criticism, however, it’s a different story altogether. I read it, reread it, worry about it, and obsess over it. If someone doesn’t like my work, whether it be the content or the style, I can’t stop thinking about it. It doesn’t matter how many positive comments I receive, one negative comment will make me question everything I’m doing. 

Recently, I received such a comment on one of my poems I had posted to a group called Contemplative Christianity on Facebook. Overall, it’s a good group. The folks on there seem to be respectful and supportive, but one group member took the time to write a long comment on one of my posts that really threw me for a loop. 

In her remarks, she stated that, while she enjoyed my writing, she felt that I posted too often and that my doing so is a sign of spiritual immaturity and borders on arrogance. In reading this, I was crushed, but also confused. I post once a day, it’s always respectful and in alignment with the group’s rules and focus, and I’ve never tried to push my ideas or my work on anyone. Not only that, everyone has the right to choose whether or not they want to read what I post. No one is forcing anyone to do so. 

I did my best to be respectful to her and to try to understand her position, but I was really taken aback by it because all she had to do was to not read my posts. The whole situation got me thinking though. It made me question why my reaction to negative feedback is so much stronger than my reaction to positive feedback. Why is it so lopsided? 

Why did this comment bother me so much that I read it over and over again, and couldn’t stop thinking about it? Was this enough to make me change my style, my frequency of posting, or quit altogether? No. Then why was I giving so much space in my head? 

I had to remind myself that I’m not writing for feedback, either positive or negative. I’m writing to write. I share my work as not only an act of bravery, but also an act of generosity. Some people, probably most people, are not going to like it. It’s not for them and that’s okay. My job is to keep writing for as long as I feel called to do so. Maybe someday I’ll have published work that people will pay to read and write negative comments about. What a blessing that would be. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Dating the muse

Imagine someone asks you out on a date and you agree to go. So they make a reservation at a nice restaurant and you both make plans to meet there. 

As the day approaches, you get offered a ticket to go see your favorite sports team in the championship game, but it’s on the same night as your date. Conflicted, but not wanting to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity, you call up your date and ask to reschedule, explaining the situation. They understand and change the reservations to another day that works for both of you. 

You have every intention of going on the date, but again, something comes up. This time, an emergency comes up at your job. You are needed there. Once again, you call up your date and explain the situation. They are a little less understanding this time, but agree to give you another chance and so they once again change the reservation to another day that works for both of you. 

Again, you have every intention of going on the date. But something else comes up.

How many times do you think this can happen before the other person stops taking you seriously? How many times can you not show up before they stop wanting to be with you? How many times can you stand someone up before it is obvious that they are not a priority and they move on? 

Now imagine the person asking you out on a date is your creative inspiration, the muse if you will. You say you want to be creative. You say you want to make art. You claim to want to be taken seriously and to be able to make a living with your creative work. But your actions say otherwise. 

How many times can you ignore inspiration before it starts ignoring you? How many times can you choose something else over your creative work before your creative work has had enough of you? How many times can you stand up the muse before it goes elsewhere and leaves you to that which you consistently choose over your art? 

Set aside time to make do you creative work. Choose a time and a place and show up. Show up consistently. Take your art as seriously as you want it to take you. You are not promised inspiration. The muse owes you nothing. Form a relationship with your creative work. Be attentive to it, nurture it, and care for it. 

Treat your art like you would treat a loved one. Better yet, treat your art like you would like to be treated by a loved one. If you take it seriously, if you show up for it and care for it, your art will always be there for you, but don’t take it for granted. Don’t make it wait. The muse is a jealous lover. 

Your art is not just for you

When I read, it inspires me to write. When I listen to music, it inspires me to play. When I look at a painting, it inspires me to paint. That is why, if you are an artist, it is so important that you create and share your work. 

Your art is not just for you. It is also for those who may be inspired by it and, through that inspiration, create and share art of their own. You are perpetuating the creative cycle. 

This is why creating and sharing your art is a generous act. You are giving others not only the joy of experiencing what you have created, but also the permission to create and to share their own art. 

Courage is contagious. Through your art, others are encouraged to make art. In this way, your art changes the world. 

Art won’t make itself

The thing about art is that you have to do it. The painting won’t paint itself. The song won’t play itself. The book won’t write itself. The dessert won’t cook itself. You have to do it. 

And it’s not easy. It’s not easy to do well. It’s not easy to make good art. It’s even more difficult to make good art and to find an audience for that art. 

But if you don’t make it and you don’t share it, no one will ever see, hear, taste, or feel what you have to offer. It will just stay in your head and that is where it will die.

So do something. Make something. Make something terrible. Make lots of terrible things. Keep doing it until you get better. 

When you feel like your art is halfway decent, like it even somewhat resembles that which you were aiming for, share it. Don’t wait to share your art until it is perfect. It will never be perfect. Share it when it is shareable. 

Then, make more art. The more art you make and the more art you share, the better your art will become. There are no shortcuts. Your art isn’t going to make itself. 

Limitations force creativity

“Limiting your options can be a very inspiring thing.”

-Trent Reznor

In a world of infinite possibilities, set limitations on yourself. Create boundaries or guide rails for yourself. You will find that, by intentionally limiting your options, you will be forced to be more creative. 

I remember hearing Anthony Bourdain explain that anyone can cook a perfect piece of filet mignon well, but it takes real skill to cook the cheap, tough meats that no one wants. 

Seth Godin has written a blog post a day for many years, but he doesn’t use pictures, hashtags, keywords, or any of the other features of his blog platform. He says that he has twenty six letters and one page to work with and that’s all. 

In Fugazi, on all of their albums and at every one of their live shows, Ian MacKaye played a Gibson SG through a Marshall amp with no effects pedals, ever. 

John Danaher, the best jiu-jitsu coach in the world, teaches six main submission systems based off of the highest percentage techniques in the sport. 

Having too many options gives us an excuse to not be creative. Options are a distraction. Limitations force creativity. 

Next time you are creating something, instead of getting overwhelmed by the possibilities, set limitations for yourself. Try painting with only three colors. Write a blog post in only seven lines. Make a meal with five ingredients. Whatever you are doing, start by intentionally limiting your options and see what comes out of you. You may find it frustrating or confusing at first, but over time, without as many decisions to make, you will find that it actually frees you up to do better work, and to enjoy the process more. 

Creativity is difficult

Creativity is difficult. This is not a complaint. It’s merely an observation.

Many years ago, I heard an interview with the great jazz trumpeter Miles Davis where he talked about musical improvisation. He explained to the interviewer that, while there was a basic structure to the songs he played, he never played the same solo twice. In this way, every night was a different experience of the music for both him and the audience. 

The interviewer remarked that it must be difficult to be that creative every night. Yes. Yes it is. 

Sometimes new ideas come easily. They just pour out and all you have to do is channel them. Other times, it feels like torture, like nothing you do can or will make the ideas come. You just fumble over sputters and sparks, but can’t seem to make anything come to life. 

This is all part of the process. Creativity is work. It’s meaningful, fulfilling work, but it is work nonetheless. 

If you want to call yourself an artist, prepare to struggle. Prepare to grapple with your work, and to feel incapable and defeated from time to time because nothing you do feels right. 

Do your work anyway and just don’t quit. 

I am terrified of my creative voice

I am terrified of my creative voice. It frightens me because it sounds a lot like my pain. 

I am hesitant to enter that place inside of me because I am afraid of what I will find, I am afraid of what will come out, and I am afraid that I will not be able to leave once I enter. 

I dance around this fear and I do good work, but it isn’t my work, not in the truest sense because it is impersonal. What is personal is the pain, the grief, the anger, and the shame, but I am afraid to go there. 

I want my art to be uplifting, I want to make a positive impact, and I want to make people happy, but I also need to dig deeper. I need to dive into the pain. I need to unearth the lessons it wants to give me. I need to not be afraid of what I will find because all I will find is the truth. 

I am still searching for my creative voice because it exists on the other side of fear and I have not yet gone there. I have not yet become truly vulnerable, and there is no art without vulnerability. 

Even this is merely writing around the truth, not diving into it headfirst without hesitation. Even this is a form of hiding. This is me avoiding the real work. 

This is not my creative voice. This is something else. 

Get to work

Make your creative work easy to do. Not that creative work is easy, but make it easy to access. Reduce the friction that keeps you from doing it. Take away as many excuses as you can before you even start so that starting is easy. 

Put your creative time on your calendar. Block it off. Do it at the same time every day. Never double-book during your creative time. Give yourself a quiet space to work. Have your commonly used tools ready and available so that all you need to do is to pick them up. Tune out distractions or better yet, turn them off altogether. 

Whatever you need to do in order to make it easy to do your creative work, do it. Every little thing adds up. Remove all of the obstacles in your path until it is just you and your work. Now the easy part is done. The hard part is actually doing the work. 

Now that you have no excuses, the only thing standing between you and your art is you. When you have removed all external resistance and you are finally standing face-to-face with your work, and you still don’t want to, don’t know how to, or can’t get started, you have just met the real problem. 

Get over yourself and get to work. 

Sound like yourself

My favorite bands don’t sound like anyone else. They sound like themselves. 

The music I like the most, the first time I heard it, I wasn’t so sure. Nothing in my previous experience had prepared me for it. It was unusual, somewhat foreign, and sometimes even quite jarring. 

Sometimes it took me a while to settle into it, to get comfortable with it, and to hear the beauty and the truth in it. 

That’s the thing about new ideas. In the beginning, they have no audience. They can’t have an audience because they are new. They haven’t been heard or experienced before. 

It’s difficult to relate to new ideas. Something about them feels off. They make us uncomfortable. But if they are true and we give them a chance, they will change us. 

Music changed me. A thousand times over, it turned my inner life upside down and transformed me into someone new, someone I would and could never be if I hadn’t experienced it. 

I can say the same about books, paintings, films, poems, and even certain meals. 

When someone creates something, and they do so with love, truth, and conviction, it is transformative. It has the power to change the lives of those who experience it.

This is why it is so important to share your art. Even if it is nothing special to you, if it comes from your heart, if you mean it, and it is uniquely your own, you never know who will be moved by it. 

Remember, the best music doesn’t sound like something else. It sounds like itself, like the person or people who created it. For this reason, the best art is a courageous act. 

So act bravely and make art that sounds like you. We may not understand it at first, but we may come to thank you for it later. 

Your creative voice

The only way to find your creative voice is to use it. If you want to be a better writer, write more. If you want to be a better painter, paint more. If you want to be a better chef, cook more. 

But you can’t stop there. You have to share your work. Put it in the world. Let people interact with it. There is only so much you can do to refine your creative skills in isolation. 

Art needs to be seen, heard, and felt. It needs to be experienced. 

In order for you to find your creative voice, your voice must be heard by others. 

Make your art. Share your art. Put it into the world and see what comes back. Do this over and over again and you will find that you are changed. 

You begin to be more like yourself. Your work starts to feel more like your own. You discover that what you have to say is worth saying and that you are the only one uniquely qualified to say what you have to say in the way that only you can say it. 

If you want to find your creative voice, you will have to be brave. You will have to risk being ignored, misheard, or misunderstood, and you will have to speak up anyway. Speak up through your art. Say what you have to say loudly and persistently enough that you cannot be ignored.