On Trusting the Process
I woke up today, checked my calendar, and the first thing I had written was, "Blog Post," in bold, green lettering. I take joy in the fact that I have committed to writing a monthly blog post for all of you and have, so far, followed through.
I've been tossing around ideas all week for what to write in this month's blog post: "On Quarantine" - relevant, but perhaps overdone; "On Creativity" - apropos, but not quite clicking for me this month; "On Overthinking" - closer to home, but I'm not sure I can coherently type myself out of that maze right now.
I've decided to give myself thirty minutes to write this post and trust that whatever comes out is meant to come out.
The idea came to me while journaling this morning, a practice I engage in (almost) daily. I've learned from Julia Cameron to set a three-page min/max and write unapologetically, allowing criticism to pop up, be observed, and coped with. I've recently reignited this practice (If you want more info, check out The Artist's Way - highly recommend) and I thought, if I can do it on paper, I can do it on my website.
So here I go, 15 minutes in, trusting the process.
Full disclaimer: I've stopped twice to check my email, once to visit my boyfriend quarantined in the other room, and of course, to pet my cat, before shutting off my phone or maximizing the screen to limit distractions.
So back to trusting the process. I think this is a worthy idea for this blog post because it's something necessary for all humans, who I fully believe are all creative beings, and absolutely for practicing artists. The intention behind these "Monthly Musings" is to holistically connect principles for prosperous music-making to their macro-applications for thriving in life. When we sit down to write or practice or play music, we of course, can somewhat plan our agendas and outcomes. However, we also must trust that our fingers can find the notes to play, our voices can resonate, our thoughts and feelings can flow from the pen to the page (or from our keyboards to our laptop screens). Ultimately, we must trust that we are capable of creating - that is where creation begins.
To trust means to move passed the constant evaluations from our cerebral cortexes. I love the cerebral cortex, don't get me wrong, but there is a time when that part just needs to let some other parts shine.
In other words: Trust now. Reflect later. Rinse. Repeat.
How's that for a 30 minute trust cycle?