The other day, I spoke about my brain having the audacity to try and stop me from doing things I want to do. One of those things was penning some thoughts about the book Finding Water: The Art of Perseverance by Julia Cameron.
I finished it a few weeks ago and was eager to share my thoughts, but my brain had other plans. It said, ‘No—waste of time. Do something else. Here’s a suggestion: obsess over the state of your new passport photo and figure out if you have high cortisol and if that’s why your face looks like the fucking moon.’
I resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t be writing about Finding Water. Instead, I looked for podcasts to lecture me on the complexities of high cortisol and adrenal fatigue.
But now I AM writing about it, and my brain can go fuck itself.
I found Finding Water earlier this year in a charity shop for 29p. I’ve never whipped a book off a shelf so fast. It felt almost criminal leaving with it after exchanging it for coppers I’d managed to find in the creases of my coat pocket. It was a good day.
We must steer clear, if we can, of people who dampen our enthusiasms, who cut short out flights of fancy. Like the sharp-taloned owl, a sharp tongue goaded by cynicism can quickly tear our optimism to shreds. We are resilient but delicate. We must be alert.
– Julia Cameron
Finding Water is the third in Cameron’s trilogy on the creative process, and while some folks have judged it as being too ‘preachy’ or ‘offering nothing new,’ I disagree. While I don’t share Cameron’s religious leanings, Finding Water helped me dig deep. It sometimes made for challenging reading, having me confront uncomfortable truths about my creative practice and more broadly, truths about my life and how I’m not fully living my purpose. i.e., I’m not currently living and working in a 100 year old house in a forest in Norway or Sweden with a wood burner and a pair of skis by the front door.
But I looked forward to my time with it, and reading a few paragraphs every morning became essential to my morning ritual. (This always involves a cup of tea and a good forty minutes to an hour of reading from the several books I have going to at any one time.)
There are many things that give me pleasure, but there are few things that give me as much pleasure as the joy of making something.
– Julia Cameron
There was hardly a page that didn’t have notes jotted in the margins, sentences underlined, and quotes ‘starred’ by the time I finished the book. As I was working my way through it, over and again, I thought, ‘I need to share this part with friends…and this, and this!’ But my brain was adamant that wasn’t going to happen. ‘No – waste of time,’ it would bark.
Cameron writes about the creative process and the importance of Morning Pages, Artist Dates and Walks, as she does in all her books about creativity. I committed to doing these three things (I signed the ‘creativity contract’ at the beginning of the book), and when I did, I was proud. I walked a bit straighter. But I couldn’t maintain the Morning Pages, Walks (despite wanting NOTHING MORE THAN TO WALK for miles and miles and miles), or Artist Dates.
At the end of every week, Cameron checks in, asking if you’ve done your pages, had your date or taken your Walk, and it was rare that I had. My brain told me Morning Pages weren’t worth it, despite Cameron saying, ‘ Morning Pages are the bedrock of a creative recovery.’ My brain told me I didn’t have time for an Artist Date and where the Walk was concerned, I’d need to get a train first to reach somewhere I wanted to hike. My brain, more than aware of how difficult I’d been finding getting the train, fed on this, reeling off all the reasons why a Walk was out of the question.
With every check-in, Cameron mentions that she knows doing these three things can be difficult, particularly the Artist Dates, which she says, ‘you may need to coax yourself into taking them.’
If I were to search myself on the web, I might find a portrait of a wild-haired, highly strung woman with the caption, “She would rather be writing.
– Julia Cameron
I want to trick my brain, and instead of writing Morning Pages, write Poetry Notes. It’s more accepting of those. I went through a long period of writing a poem daily and would always start with an idea and notes in the morning, typically inspired by whatever I was reading.
It takes humility to not know. It takes courage to remain teachable by our art. Yesterday, I got a letter from a novelist. She wrote to me, “Creations are our mirror. They don’t go well when we’re not going well. They don’t have time for us when we don’t have time for them. They are tired when we are, and the power comes off their wings when we handle them too much. The relationship is delicate and fierce, and without it, we are truly miserable. So we must do whatever it needs.”
“We must do whatever it needs” requires that we be vigilant about nurturing our art.
– Julia Cameron
I know that even though I worked through the programme, I’m not nurturing my art as it deserves, as it needs, though I hope, I hope I can change this. I want to take Artist Dates without having a stand-off with my brain. I want to get to the train station and get to wild, open places where I can walk for miles without sight nor sound or another human being. I want to give myself space and time to explore the projects my brain says I don’t have the time – or the talent – for such as making zines and writing children’s books.
I’ve taken myself too seriously much of the time and I need to have more fun; I want to play more. I think I’ve been scared about having too much fun, about enjoying myself too much with what I do, as fucking insane as that sounds.
My best work comes when I’m just having fun with my writing, when I’m playing around and trying new things. In Week 12: Uncovering a Sense of Perseverance, I’ve made a note next to the following passage, which says, in red felt tip pen: REMEMBER THIS FOR BLOGGING! Cameron writes: ‘As artists, we must remember that our work is about “the play of ideas.” When we become too serious about our work, when we demand perfection, our work rebels. It is when we are able to play a little that our work takes on verve and elasticity.’
Finding Water is stuffed to the page edges with wisdom and understanding. If you’re struggling now – as I am – to find inspiration, to persevere when something doesn’t bloom immediately, and to stay focused when all life wants to do is distract you from your purpose, reach out for this book. If you’re open and willing to engage with Cameron’s guidance, I’m more than certain it’ll help you and your craft, in a myriad of ways.
A Wyrd Of Her Own 