Upended Expectations

are the best sort...

First things first-this post is written by me. No AI, no outside advice, no outside intellectual input whatsoever has been allowed *wink. I only ask grace for typos, grammar abuses and any poor choices-on or off the page- I may have made while writing…

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To say this creative life is unpredictable would be a gross understatement. It is anything but stagnant and nothing if not surprising. When I first began with The Writist, and the projects associated with this space, I had nothing on my radar besides a long echo-ey year ahead. Fast forward to mid-August pushing hard against September and I am nowhere near where I expected to be—the distance between my expectations and reality is like the difference between a walk around the block and the Boston marathon. I can’t say I am disappointed.

In recent years I have learned to walk through my creative journey holding loosely to hopes and dreams and, well, to be completely honest, this applies to life in general. In my mind I saw myself very differently at this age than what is true about where I am personally and creatively. My reality weighs more-both literally and figuratively. On the most literal side, my body does not look, feel, or move the way I had counted on in years passed (or past, whichever way your bent leans) but that does not counterbalance the unexpected weight of the opposing doré bead.

I have not been creatively absent, just unable to sit in one spot long enough to write about it. I said yes to a big project at the beginning of the year that consumed the better part of the following months. On some days I thought I had lost my mind for that ‘yes’ but on others I leaned into pushing myself outside my very comfortable comfort zone. It is easy to stay doing the known, the expected, and to follow the ‘this is where I am’ checklist-whatever that may be. It is also easy to lean into an idea of how we believe others see us, or know how others see us, or what we have come to believe about ourselves. That last one is a biggie. All it is is a fancy way of renaming fear.

We tell ourselves we are one thing which makes it easier to say no to what asks us to be more that just that one thing. I can’t do that because__________. We each have very real limitations and learning to say the healthy no is necessary. Would I like to climb Mt. Everest? Yes. Will I? No. That is a healthy no and there are many smaller but equally significant no’s that must be said…and that is a good thing. I cannot perform life saving surgery so that’s an easy no. There are potential yeses that fit my dossier that become no’s when weighed against what is important to me. That said, ‘no’ can become a habit that keeps us safely ensconced in a place we recognize, a place we can reach our arms out in any direction and feel the comfortable solidity of a carefully constructed wall.

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Wall Mural at Foxtail Coffee in Holland Michigan

Back in January I was offered a door. As I reached out and felt the smooth walls of my comfort zone, and began the recitation of my liturgy of no, I felt something akin to actual words forming that took the shape of yes. This yes invited me to design and paint a mural-something I had never done on this scale. This yes was never going to come around again and I needed to decide if I was willing to push against my fears (small things like failure, disappointment, and did I mention failure) and cut the door all the way through.

As you can see, I said yes. Out loud. What followed was not without it’s frustrations but became one of the best experiences I have ever had. Not because of the product of it, but the intensity of growth it required and the daily yeses it took to keep trying, to keep pushing against my inner walls. I did not do this alone though-there was a team of amazing individuals encouraging me along the way-and for that I am incredibly grateful. The focus required meant I had to say a lot of no’s to support that yes, and that was a growing space too.

Writing. Workshops. Expectations. These are some of what needed to be set aside to accommodate my yes. I missed writing the most. I was able to get one workshop off the ground in July but my weak marketing skills became even weaker and I ended up cancelling my September workshop. Which leaves expectations-it is humbling to be reminded you cannot do ‘it all’. I am chuckling after having written that last line…as if we were ever intended to do ‘it all’. If I have learned nothing else along the way, I have learned that to love where you are, what you are doing right now-even if it doesn’t measure up to what you ‘think’ it should be-is the greatest accomplishment. We are not meant to do what everyone else is doing. We are meant to fulfill what only we can do. It does us no good to constantly strive towards what someone else has because if we do, we are missing what it is we are meant to become. This means allowing the unexpected to upend our expectations, letting go of what we have been told, or what we have come to believe about ourselves, and leaping.

A week or so ago, I put out a poem-an unedited poem- on Instagram to get back into the groove of writing. It is always an intentional move to hit publish on a poetry post because I am making a decision to eliminate myself from further publication. I can freely self-publish, but once a piece is in the public sphere it is no longer eligible for consideration in or on traditional platforms. Which is a bummer. But, oh well. I wanted to share the edited version with you as a way to get back into my practice here at The Writist. My studio is back to normal and I brought out all my supplies for handmade books and am anxious to get to work! I will be doing more murals (more on that later) but hope to find a better balance and keep up with my work here. I am planning a personal writing residency this fall to dig into my neglected manuscript and will keep you updated along the way. For now, here is Unction—