The Path of the Heart

Recently, I wrote about forks in the road. Now, I see that one fork leads to another.

I have always found it difficult to decide what I wanted to do when I grew up. Some people jump into life with a vision, and stick with it. Others simply choose the most accessible path, and find contentment. These folks have a clear idea of what they are here to do, and make peace with it. I am not one of them.

To me, life is an endless buffet. As I wander, I am continually drawn to new and shiny possibilities. During my working life, I completed four university degrees. These translated into several rather radical career changes. As a result, I find myself in the unusual role of a beginner no matter what my age.

It’s not that I quit everything. I don’t. I just weave whatever I have been doing into the fabric of a new endeavour. I worked in offices for twelve years, but never more than a few years in every job. I changed fields, changed roles, changed direction, every three years: real estate, computers, paralegal work, translation, interior decoration.

I taught for thirty years. I taught French to English speakers, English to French speakers, changed from elementary to high school, then adult education. I have taught pedagogy to student teachers, and mentored experienced trades practitioners into teaching. I used what I learned in offices to manage my work throughout my career, and used what I learned as a teacher to guide others.

Over the years, the integration of my skills into every new project became tighter and more intricate.

In this third trimester, I have distilled my experiences to their essence: creative work. Throughout all the phases of my diverse working life, one thread ran through all its incarnations — a creative spirit.  I have decided that I no longer need to find a productive channel for this essential part of myself, so I let it have its own way. Exploring art making and finally coming home to writing feels like releasing a river that had been dammed for too long.

My heart is filled with the seeds of creative projects. There are an endless variety of art-making forms, things to write about, and projects to do it with.

Of course, in the spirit of weaving, the teacher’s voice is never far behind.

I was reminded of this yesterday, as I co-hosted a journaling workshop at a community organization in my community. This workshop is the project of an innovative young woman studying Therapeutic Leisure at Concordia university. When we met a few months ago, we immediately connected. She explained her project idea, and I offered to work with her on the spot. Journaling is a practice close to my heart, and an important aspect of my creative and spiritual practice. Having an opportunity to introduce other people to this powerful tool was irresistible to me.

We met a few times to prepare, and met the participants for the first time yesterday. Some had a journaling practice, others were new to it. Some people knew each others, others were meeting for the first time. Our role as moderators was to explain the benefits of journaling, and introduce the participants to the process in an accessible way.

At the end of two hours of writing with prompts and sharing their process in pairs and with the group, the participants were already gelling into a cohort. We were thrilled!

When the session was over and the participants had left, the community coordinator asked me what I was taking away from my participation.

I realized that engaging in the animation process had opened my heart to answers I have been seeking. I have been writing a creativity course myself, and have experienced so much imposter’s syndrome! I review, rewrite, restructure, all things that delay the thing I am afraid to do: announce what I am doing and do it. Despite all the new ventures I have undertaken in my life, this one feels so personal, like a self-revelation. I am stuck at the gate, afraid to open it. I know very well that I am in my own way.

How can get past this roadblock?

Yesterday was a beautiful opportunity to admit that I have the answers within me. Just teach. I teach so I can learn. Thirty years of practice did teach me that.

If I just start, the process of teaching will guide me: build, communicate, listen to participants, assess, adjust, and guide. Repeat. I know how to do this.

What if I did this to overcome my fear of promoting myself (yes, I am terrified…)?

Could I go on social media (eeeekk.)., inform people of what I am doing, listen to their feedback, assess their contributions, adjust myself, then guide them to my course?

Baby steps. This is a first one, sharing my fear with you. Watching participants yesterday sharing their insecurities with each other was inspiring. At the end of the session, every person wrote themselves a permission slip. The content was personal, to be added to the journal. Its presence will remind each writer of what they need to overcome to grow.

I also wrote myself a permission slip yesterday: I give myself permission to the world who I am.

It is a tall order for me, so I am starting with you, my people.

Reintegrating creative work into my life has been the path of healing for me. It is, and continues to be reclaiming work.

Now that I have discovered this, I want to share what I have learned with others.