Six months ago, I finally hopped on the Morning Pages bandwagon.
Julia Cameron (who coined the phrase) proposes three pages of longhand writing each morning, but, most days, I only do one. (My notebook is wide, okay?)
Even so, I have found the routine insightful and soothing, and, dare I say, eye-opening. Sometimes when I feel stuck or donāt know what to write, I flip through The Artistās Way and respond to some of her prompts. For example, on one page she asks the reader to consider their āburied dreamsā and make a list of five hobbies that sound fun, five classes that sound fun, five skills that would be fun to have, etc. On another, she asks the reader to make a list of forbidden joys, followed by, āIf I was twenty and had money, I would ________.ā
As I skimmed through the prompts and even attempted to answer some of them in my morning journal, I noticed over and over again how many times I wrote about learning to shoot film. Talk about a buried dream. The desire was hidden so deep, I basically didnāt know it existed. I suppose this is the whole point of morning pages: when you write down your stream of consciousness thoughts first thing in the morning, you unearth all sorts of things.
Upon staring this desire in the face, I immediately felt resistance. I canāt learn to shoot film. It seems hard. Expensive. Daunting. Time-consuming. I probably wonāt be any good at it. Whatās the point of spending money developing pictures that will probably be terrible?
(Does this sound familiar? How many times do we talk ourselves out of trying something new before we even start?)
I spent much of 2020 working on my perfectionist tendencies, which, in simpler terms, looked like saying yes to a bunch of things that scared me. Yes, I'm going to walk through that door God just opened. Yes, I am going to pursue A Big Dream I never, ever thought I would. Yes, I am going to launch a newsletter (and ask people to subscribe, CRINGE). Yes, I am going to create a narrative podcast series, even though Iāve never made one before. Yes, I am going to design a capsule wardrobe workshop, even though Iām not a fashion blogger.
As it turns outāthe more you say yes to things that scare you, the quicker you learn to move past the resistance.
After a year of saying yes to things that scared me, I decided 2021 would be the year I learn to shoot film. If youāre into puns, you could say I was on a roll. The week before New Yearās, I started getting my ducks in a row. I texted my friend Kelli who shoots film, asking for advice. I ordered a used film camera, a light meter, and a pack of cheap film to start with. I signed up for two online courses and joined a few Facebook groups for support and advice. I even posted to Instagram for accountability becauseāas an Enneagram type 3āI am 100x more likely to follow through on something if I have told the Internet about it.
Iāve dabbled in photography since 2010, and while I still love this creative practice, Iāve also grown a bit ā¦ bored with it. I think boredom gets a bad rap within creativity because we associate boredom with stale work and dying dreams.
Lately, though, Iām learning boredom can be a powerful jumping off point.
Boredom can inspire us to change. Boredom can launch us into something new. Boredom can force us to seek a new sense of enthusiasm.
Iāve been running Coffee + Crumbs since 2014. This is the longest job Iāve ever had, going on seven years. Itās my dream job of all dream jobs. Not a day goes by that I do not thank God for this space, this community, this opportunity to do meaningful work I love.
But friends, can I confess something here?
Sometimes I get bored with it. That feels like a dirty secret, like something I shouldnāt say out loud, especially to you, our Exhale members. But I think itās important to talk about boredom because once you identify that feeling, you can actually do something about it. You can brainstorm ideas in the shower. You can catapult yourself into something new. You can try something that scares you.
In The Artistās Way, Julie Cameron writes:
Over any extended period of time, being an artist requires enthusiasm more than discipline. Enthusiasm is not an emotional state. It is a spiritual commitment, a loving surrender to our creative process, a loving recognition of all the creativity around us.
I love that. Being an artist requires enthusiasm more than discipline. Make no mistakeāboth are essentialābut I can tell you from personal experience: when you are pursuing art that makes you feel alive, the discipline gets easier.
Some questions to ponder this month:
Where do I feel bored?
Where do I feel enthusiasm brewing?
And then ā¦what needs to change?
Cheering you on as you figure it out.
