Here’s what happens when I don’t write morning pages for three and one-half months.
I get bitchy. Make that all caps. BITCHY.
I also get stuck. There’s a log jam of Mount Everest proportions inside my writing-drawing-artist-self.
It’s very uncomfortable.
Actually, it effing hurts.
I have a build-up of creative need. A need to connect with what I am feeling and thinking. A need to connect with my creative energy. Make stuff. Write. Draw. A need to connect with other creators.
I am fulfilling all of these needs exactly right now. First I write morning pages. Yay! And about bloody time too. And now I am writing this post.
Yesterday I decided I’d had enough of paying attention to every room in our new home except my studio. Enough of setting up all other spaces except the one space that is vital to me.
Vital only to me. Note the ‘only’. I set up all the family-used spaces first. I do what is expected of me. I don’t do what I need for myself alone. I push me to last.
I am such a good girl.
I am sick of being such a good girl.
This morning I get angry enough to send my husband and son retreating (running) to the workshop and the downstairs suite. They get the hint. No more Mrs. Good Girl.
Amazing what not writing morning pages does to me. Here is the list.
Not writing morning pages throws me off balance. Instead of moving between my need to create and the needs of living a life shared with others, I attend only to others’ needs. I lose sight of, and feel for, what I need.
Not writing morning pages, I lose the truth of myself. I am an artist, a writer, a creator, and it is necessary I do this every day.
Not writing morning pages, my family forgets my daily movement into my creativity. They forget the habit of saying, “She’s creating. Don’t interrupt her. Leave her alone.”
Not writing morning pages, I stop standing my ground and claiming the time and space I need to write and draw and create. Not only physical time and space. Mental, emotional, and spiritual time and space as well.
Not writing morning pages for three and one-half months requires the dynamite of anger to clear the way and get everything flowing again.
Really, it is much easier to claim my space, write the morning pages, and make my stuff every day. No log jam. No need to shove and struggle until I finally blow up. No need to hurt myself (or others).
Apparently, I have to remind myself of what happens when I don’t write my morning pages.
Do yourself a kindness.
Write your pages.
Mentioned in this post:
Julie Cameron’s morning pages, from The Artist’s Way, Tarcher-Putman, 1992, pages 9 -18. http://juliacameronlive.com/
Morning pages do so many things for me and my creativity.
Morning pages move me past my internal critic. https://catfinkknowtrustchoosecreate.com/2016/03/31/writing-past-the-internal-critic/critic
They are the secret agent who clears the way and connects my mind and heart, readying me to draw and write. https://catfinkknowtrustchoosecreate.com/2016/04/30/morning-pages-to-write-or-not-to-write/
Here is the irony. Last week I wrote about creating daily, then promptly did not do that for the next week.
I am serious when I say do yourself and kindness and write your pages.