The Soul's Process

This month, Kristi Zevenbergen made a presentation at the NWPCG meeting. We saw slides of her work as it has developed over time. She talked to us about how she incorporates her life and psychological processes into her jewelry making process. It's great to listen to someone who is so aware of how who she is, is expressed in what she does.

It sparked me to consider how I might facilitate this process for myself and others. I've used guided meditations for my students to access images of a deep self in my mask-making workshops. A good question can guide a productive writing/sharing session. They are all ways to access that visual and symbolic part of our brain where so much wisdom resides...if we can learn how to understand it.

I believe that the soul speaks a language that differs from the one I'm using to communicate to you. An image that appears in a dream may have line and color, but it can also have a sort of taste or aroma, and a woven emotional presence. It can have so much within it that understanding all it contains may take years. I've been inspired by Robert Bosnak, the Jungian analyst who wrote A Little Course in Dreams. In it, he talks about how you can begin to decode the language of the dream.

Our art can use the images of dreams, the images from the soul. Kristi's work shows her soul -- and she knows it. Here's a wish that the work you do today will show your soul.

Thinking does not equal Doing

One of the insights I had in working with a coach has to do with one of my big stumbling blocks. I like to think. A lot. That includes "figuring things out." I have a pretty good visual imagination, and can "see" my way through making something -- engineering, fabrication, the whole ball of wax.

But in creating with polymer clay, consciously bringing creative thoughts into manifestation, I have gotten pretty darn clear that the hands can't always achieve what the mind can create. Therein lies the utility of practice.

Now, I know lots of you are going to say "well, duh!" And yeah, when you think about it, it's pretty obvious. But again I say, what the brain knows, the body can stumble over. What I think should be easy can be terrifying to my emotions.

What I continue to learn on a daily basis is to practice. Just sit in the chair and write. Don't judge it, just write. Maybe just sit in the chair if that's all I can do that day. When I was writing my dissertation, I consistently found that if I could put my butt in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard, after a while of slogging, I'd get into it. My interest in the task would usually take me the rest of the way.

It's boring? Too bad. Keep going. Maybe I'm not deep enough in to where it isn't boring.

It's confusing? Ok, so it's confusing, I'll get down what I DO understand and go from there.

It's too complicated? Break it down into little simple pieces.

There's too much? Who said you had to do it all at once? Take it step by step.

The thing about working with the clay is that I can see how I can make my weaknesses into design elements. And that's a transferable skill. So if I can't think of what to say to a client, I can focus on listening more deeply. And ya know, from a client's perspective, that can be a darn good trade.