The Artist’s Way, and why I should always have a book nearby

I've mentioned Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way a couple of times here on the blog, but I don't think I've really discussed it in any depth. I've been discussing it in e-mail with a couple of people lately, though, and it seems like I've got enough of it parsed to really discuss it.

My history with the thing is sort of ridiculous. I learned about it about ten years ago from my friend Paul. I promptly picked up a copy and started trying to work through it, but had to drop it about two weeks in. I was in school, I was working, and I was doing the whole NaNoWriMo thing. I may have even been Municipal Liaison that year.

And then, because I am a total genius, I misplaced the book.

I thought about it occasionally after that. I don't actually remember getting rid of that first copy at any point, so I've probably got it packed away somewhere. When I wanted to give it another try last fall, though, I couldn't find that copy. I ended up buying another one, and with the very best intentions gave it another try, just in time to get derailed by school again.

I took a break from my own personal extra curriculars after graduation, then started easing in again in late May. I dusted The Artist's Way off and started over, giving myself a couple of weeks to re-do the first couple of lessons and build a good routine.

The book's subtitle, "A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity," is not there for decoration. There's a lot of worldview going on in there, and it's something I'm cautious about writing about in detail here. The work fosters an experiential view of creativity as something which is allowed to share a space with sacredness, but also gives a framework for entering into conversation with parts of the self that almost have to be spoken to in private. It asks a lot of a cynic or pure rationalist, and while I'm neither, I minored in Philosophy. I have a tremendous impulse to build coherent systems, to justify, to prove.

That's not something I'm really prepared to do with this work yet. It's congruent, to some extent, with Elizabeth Gilbert's TED talk about the creative genius, or maybe other things, all of which I'm definitely not prepared to write about here tonight either.

For me it's good. It's probably not for everyone, though.

This week was, however, very hard. I worry a little about describing why in too much detail. I think Cameron orders her lessons as she does for a reason, and that teaching is all about the reveal, so I'm going to discuss the details of it somewhat less and the experience somewhat more and see what happens.

There is a lesson in The Artist's Way that requires the student to undergo a week-long reading diet.

Conceptually, the whole thing terrified me. Which is in large part why I gave it a try. As a human being, leaning into the things that scare me is one way that I learn.

Sunday, the day I started, was kind of novel, but I felt tense by Monday afternoon. By mid-week I found myself staring at the back of a packet of bagel crisps, desperately re-reading the company's story and trying to feel the deeper experience of making bagel crisps. By the end of the week I was bargaining aloud with myself in between bouts of slipping up and outright rebellion.

I can understand the concept, and why someone might try this. A lot of us read in ways that both diminish our attention to our life situations and reduce the amount of time we have for creative endeavors. Taking a week off from reading is supposed to be a perfect storm of understimulation and extra time.

My problem, sadly, is that my life is already pretty densely packed. A solid chunk of the reading I do -- news and blogs and other goodies that keep me connected to my friends (who are geographically scattered) and the world outside of my immediate physical sphere -- happens in the cracks between other tasks, or while I'm doing other things. Reading books only happens in bed when I've got time to get a chapter or two in before I go to sleep.

My reading diet, then, amounted to going through six and a half days of feeling distracted, disconnected, and tense. Unfortunately, there was no extra time for me to channel that tension. Instead, I went crazy.

Reflecting on the exercise, I do think I got some benefit in that it took me out of my comfort zone and forced me to engage the world differently. Overall, though, my life isn't the right sort of life for me to get the intended. I could see a two or three day reading diet being a truly brilliant thing to try during some kind of multi-day creative retreat. Not so much in my day-to-day life.

And now that it's over, I never have to do it again unless I really, really want to.

This post has been mirrored from Christian A. Young's Dimlight Archive. To see it in its original format, visit dimlightarchive.com