Making space for unhurried, mindful creativity

Before rain in a tropical valley

Creativity. Inspiration. Genius. A mysterious gift possessed by only a select few. We admire the ability of artists to conjure up masterpieces seemingly effortlessly. Swipe of a brush, stroke of a key, and breathtaking art has been made.

But deep down you know. If you're here, you know that creativity is not some exclusive club, it's an innate part of our human experience. I create, therefore I am.

In recent years, researchers like Ellen Langer and Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi have challenged the traditional notion of creativity as this magical, rare talent bestowed upon a lucky few. They tell us that creativity is not reserved for geniuses; it is a skill that can be learned, nurtured, and integrated into our daily lives. Moreover, they argue that creativity arises from intentional effort rather than chance occurrences.

But what kind of effort best conjures the muse?

Artists like Austin Kleon and writers like Elizabeth Gilbert say to sit in your chair every day. Do the work and the great work will come. Eventually. Photographers know this, you take a hundred, three hundred shots and maybe one or two of them are really great.

Yet for knitters, for makers, the practice of making all the things and then trashing the non-satisfactory is not feasible nor sustainable.

So I'm wondering if the concept of creative mindfulness could be a tool for us. Mindfulness, a practice rooted in ancient traditions, involves being fully present and aware of our thoughts, feelings, and actions in the present moment. When applied to the creative process, mindfulness allows us to engage fully with our creative endeavours, fostering a state of flow where time seems to stand still, and our focus becomes laser-sharp.

Mindfulness is well-being. Regular mindfulness practice has been shown to cultivate greater insight, balance, authenticity, expanded awareness, increased energy, and improved mental and physical health. It can reduce stress, anxiety, and the risk of burnout. So, by cultivating a mindful mindset, we create the space for new ideas to arise and for our creativity to flourish.

Mindfulness enriches both the process and the outcome, giving our work and our lives a sense of purpose, joy, and fulfilment. By cultivating mindfulness, we become more attuned to our own thoughts, emotions, and actions, enabling us to break out of habitual patterns and get new perspectives.

So, how can we embark on this journey of creative mindfulness? We can start by making space.

Set aside a few moments to sit still and do nothing, or engage in mindful activities such as journaling, painting, or gardening. If we're lucky, in the silence and stillness we've built, in the patient savouring of the everyday, a simple conversation, a delicious meal, the feeling of having solved a complicated problem, from this space we've created, our own creativity will sprout.

So I suggest an experiment for next week. Drop the screens for an hour after you wake up and one hour before you go to sleep. Pick up a book, a brush, a needle, a yoga mat. See what happens.

Happy New Year!

Resources:

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1996). The creative personality. Psychology Today, 36–40.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1996). Creativity: Flow and the psychology of discovery and invention. New York, NY: HarperCollins.

Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1997). Finding flow: The psychology of engagement with everyday life. New York, NY: Basic Books.

Gilbert, E. (2016). Big magic: Creative living beyond fear. Penguin.

Langer, E. (1989). Mindfulness. New York, NY: Addison-Wesley.

Langer, E. (2005). On becoming an artist: Reinventing yourself through mindful creativity. New York, NY: Ballantine Books.

What I am making

Knitting a cardigan

I am knitting a Badana cardigan by Rosa Pomar, from issue 16 of Laine Magazine. This cardigan is the biggest thing I've ever made. It’s huge. It's going to be like a weighted blanket. I have many doubts, but I am determined to finish it, as huge as is it. I actually have one more sleeve to go and then the ribbing.

I don't have a photo of my wip, so we can instead appreciate the last cardigan I made, the Harvest cardigan by Tin Can Knits. I loved knitting this. I knit it a size smaller than suggested and got a small, cropped negative ease cardigan that works well with high-waisted bottoms. I thought I didn't need buttons, but it turns out I do, even if I never actually use them on a garment. Now pondering whether to do afterthought buttonhole or add snap buttons.

Book of the week

Observations by Lotta H. Löthgren

Observations, edited by Laine Publishing, is Lotta H. Löthgren's first book. But this is not just a book. It's an invitation into the author's small village in Sweden, an invitation to walks with her and her dogs in the forest near her home, a way to see the world through her attentive and curious eyes. The author writes the essays in this book, has taken the photos, and has created knitting patterns inspired by the surrounding nature. It is delightful.

After jumping another wide ditch, I could see the far end of the neighbour's horse pasture and even though I could name the house, the humans in it and their dog, name the forest roads leading from there to my home, it felt like stepping into a forgotten world. One left alone for so long that it had been reclaimed by nature and the stories it holds. One day, the squirrels, and the voles that will feast on the abundance of nuts in that little patch of land, or the rustling in the utterly green leaves in the first warm day in spring, might tell some of them.

It takes time to know a place, for a place to know us well enough to reveal a story or two, and only the curious and unhurried will ever hear them.

May your days be filled with mindful moments. Until next time, be present.

Sky