UnMuddling

Last week I mentioned an idea incubation tool I call my Unmuddling Notebook. It's my personal alternative to Morning Pages, a basic tool in Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way. Instead of writing three pages first thing each day, I write one or two lines in the morning and one or two lines at night.

My evening lines are a task I assign to my subconscious to work on overnight -- things I'd like it to help me clarify or unmuddle. It might be something very specific, or very general. Last night I wrote, "I need fresh eyes."

My morning lines are about what I want to make sure I'm paying attention to today. It might be the first thing that pops into my head when I wake up, or something I consciously pluck from the swirl of thoughts that returns when my eyes open. This morning it was "Reflections."

For me, writing morning and evening lines is a reminder to keep the heat turned up in my creativity incubator, and to be paying attention when something hatches. It's also a reminder that I have some choice in the matter of what gets my attention. Each morning and each evening, I make some choice about where to look for inspiration. Likewise, each morning, each evening, and during the hours in between, I have to let some things go -- maybe not forever, but for now.

Fitting The Pieces Together

We finally finished the bezillion-piece puzzle we started while my parents were visiting. It's been a welcome distraction, and a useful reminder that eventually things all fall into place.

My mom wasn't feeling well during their visit, but she was happy to sort puzzle pieces. First we found the four corners and the pieces with straight edges. Then we searched for the pieces with the red and white title. Next we worked the map. After my folks left, I worked on the rest of the pieces with text and the faces. While I was at Sievers, Bill filled in the inner border. When I got home, we were down to the hard part -- lots of blue and gray without clear distinguishing marks to help place the pieces. And some of the pieces were not "puzzle shaped." Out of context, they wouldn't hold together while you searched for what went with them.

Does this sound like a metaphor? It sure seems like one to me.

Working on the puzzle has been a good distraction at a time when I need a little distraction. I'm trying not to think too hard about some stuff I have incubating. As Paul Williams wrote a while back on Think For A Change, incubation is:

...a bit like grabbing a wet bar of soap...the harder you squeeze, the more difficult it is to hang onto it. 

I'm at a natural transition point in my work where it makes sense to step back and take a fresh look at possibilities. This puzzle has a lot of pieces, and I have no clue how some of them fit it. For now.

Life doesn't come with a helpful picture on the box of what things are supposed to look like when you get it all put together. Sometimes I kind of wish it did. And sometimes I squeeze the soap.

But there isn't a timetable for this process. There's no expiration date on possibility. I've learned to be more patient than I ever dreamed was possible. That may be because I have better tools now for making sure I'm paying attention when all these ideas start to hatch and the pieces start to fit together.

Next time I'll tell you about my "unmuddling" notebook. In the meantime, what tools to you use to keep from squeezing the soap?

Sleep On It

Mom always said, "It will all make more sense after you sleep on it." Turns out, she was right again. As part of my intention to pay attention as I incubate some ideas that are kicking around in my head, I may be adding naptime to my daily planner.

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Dye Test

Last week, during the 5-day spinning class I took at Sievers, I wasn't surprised when talk turned to using powdered unsweetened soft drink mix to dye wool and silk. I was surprised to learn that Mexican Kool-Aid may yield better color than the American product. The woman at the wheel next to me is from an area in northern Minnesota that is as rural as where I live. We both assumed there wouldn't be much chance of finding the product in our local grocery stores.

I don't know about her, but I was wrong. It is in my local supermarket -- right at eye level in an aisle I pass down every time I'm in the store.

How many times do we dismiss possibilities because we assume they won't be available so we don't look for them at all? This time, I looked.

It's time for me to make sure I'm paying attention to other possibilities I might be overlooking. After a summer packed with learning as well as teaching, I need to use some of the incubation exercises I give my students on myself. Want to play along?

I Scream -- An Incubation Exercise

I don't want you to think I'm the sort of girl who just sits around waiting for the muse to appear. I'm pretty disciplined. I have to be: I'm self-employed. But yesterday afternoon, after two nights of inexplicable insomnia, I quit. We had leftovers for supper, plugged in a DVD, and took an intermission for ice cream. Last night I slept well. Today I can think straight again.

I wish I could recommend a cure for insomnia -- or whatever is the culprit when you get the stalls. Sadly, that stuff happens and I'm afraid there's no way to prevent it. But I am working on building some habits to help me through the haze when it does.

One of them is a form of doodling. You've seen several of the creativity warm-up exercises I use that involve doodling. This one isn't a warm-up intended to boost productivity. It's more of an incubation exercise. I'll be writing more about these soon. But you can do the exercise even if you don't know the backstory.

1. Gather your materials. For this exercise you need a half-gallon brick of ice cream in a solid color like vanilla or mint. Bill said he showed Annette at the grocery store the shopping list with "solid-color ice cream" and I think there might have been discussion about "what's she up to now?" You also need an ice cream topping, preferably Hershey's Dark Chocolate syrup.
2. Prepare your canvas. Use a cleaver or a bread knife to cut a serving slab from the ice cream. Don't be stingy. Put the slab on a nice, solid-color plate. It doesn't have to be white.
3. Doodle. Doodle on the ice cream with the topping. Dots, flowing lines, zigzags -- whatever. 
4. Ask the question. After doodling, give yourself an incubation prompt. For me, last night it was this: "What's the one thing I want to feel more clear about in the morning?"
5. Savor. Enjoy the moment, and the ice cream. Like a computer that's got stuff working in the background, your brain can be working on that question while you spend time with your family, watch a movie, read a book, enjoy the sunset, sleep.

By the way, the movie we watched last night was The World's Fastest Indian with Anthony Hopkins. It's based on a New Zealander who will inspire you with his creativity, resourcefulness and tenacity. Be sure to watch the bonus feature, a 1971 documentary about the real Burt Munro called Offerings To The God Of Speed.

A good reading companion for this movie would be Matthew B. Crawford's Shop Class As Soulcraft: An Inquiry Into the Value of Work. Crawford, a philosopher as well as a motorcycle repair shop owner, makes some very good points about the relationship between creativity and the willingness to try and fail and try again.

Now I'm wondering why I never read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and if I should add that to my reading  list. What do you think?