Fill in the Blank
I thought I would take the 20 minutes I have between clients (thank you, no show) to write about something that is on my mind. My clients truly do more for my personal growth than any class, friend, or church service I've been to. They keep me motivated and they keep me ever-open to new possibilities. My client this morning got me thinking about the double-sided coin of the blank page: the analogy of opportunity as well as uncertainty. I've always considered a physical blank page to be an exciting element. It strikes me as new territory: completely available to be explored, molded, and changed to reflect whatever I want at the time. However, this excitement quickly turns to fear when you ask me to draw on the paper. Some days, more than others, I cling to the excitement and can attach to the idea of creating something from nothing. Yet, the idea of creating something that would be considered "ugly" or "bad" is worse than leaving the paper blank. After all, if I'm going to put my heart into it, I want it to stand the best chance of being loved.
As I thought about this more and more (still thinking, for the record) I began seeing some of what my client is going through as a blank page of sorts. For them, putting pen to paper (making a choice to pursue their happiness) seems worse than leaving things how they are. For similar reasons as I listed above, they don't trust their ability to put down something good, so they're afraid to put down anything at all. It's scary to think about being seen and rejected. This client is stuck holding the pen, wanting to use their talents and opinions, but paralyzed by the fear of failing, being seen as a failure, or simply "not succeeding" (which makes neutral performance akin to failure).
I get this. I live this.
Anyway, the best thing to get over the fear of messing up is to practice on something that no one else will see, or that doesn't matter that much. When I first started writing, I used journals and notebooks that I knew no one else would see. I used prompts instead of coming up with my own narratives. Now, I write for whomever and don't care what they think about it, because I like what I do. I think I have something important to say, and I also see my writing as my personal way of engaging in the Gospel's creative process of redeeming, making things new, and drawing people to the love and wisdom that is God, my Maker, my Father.
Anyway, I thought about this for my client, for myself. When I feel performance anxiety, what blank page is being put in front of me? What do I think I'm adding to it? Can I loosen fear's grip on the process? Can I practice on something before it goes viral? Can I lean on my creativity and passion to push me through the fear and paralysis?
Lots of questions, but also lots of ideas.
What is your blank page? What do you want to say with it? What is fear getting in the way of? How do you practice and hone your creativity and your purpose?
As I thought about this more and more (still thinking, for the record) I began seeing some of what my client is going through as a blank page of sorts. For them, putting pen to paper (making a choice to pursue their happiness) seems worse than leaving things how they are. For similar reasons as I listed above, they don't trust their ability to put down something good, so they're afraid to put down anything at all. It's scary to think about being seen and rejected. This client is stuck holding the pen, wanting to use their talents and opinions, but paralyzed by the fear of failing, being seen as a failure, or simply "not succeeding" (which makes neutral performance akin to failure).
I get this. I live this.
Anyway, the best thing to get over the fear of messing up is to practice on something that no one else will see, or that doesn't matter that much. When I first started writing, I used journals and notebooks that I knew no one else would see. I used prompts instead of coming up with my own narratives. Now, I write for whomever and don't care what they think about it, because I like what I do. I think I have something important to say, and I also see my writing as my personal way of engaging in the Gospel's creative process of redeeming, making things new, and drawing people to the love and wisdom that is God, my Maker, my Father.
Anyway, I thought about this for my client, for myself. When I feel performance anxiety, what blank page is being put in front of me? What do I think I'm adding to it? Can I loosen fear's grip on the process? Can I practice on something before it goes viral? Can I lean on my creativity and passion to push me through the fear and paralysis?
Lots of questions, but also lots of ideas.
What is your blank page? What do you want to say with it? What is fear getting in the way of? How do you practice and hone your creativity and your purpose?
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