Embracing vulnerability and the courage to follow your creative calling
It takes a certain vulnerability to do your work in the world—to write, to create, to build your soul’s business.
It just does.
I’ve seen people try to skirt the vulnerability of it though. That seems to go one of two ways.
They either lean in, hard, hammering their shoulders into the work, insistent that playing by the rules, working oh so very hard, and following the steady, worn path will give them success. Or they float above everything, losing themselves in the spiritual love and light, never really grounding themselves into the work.
Either way, they’re shielding themselves.
I know a bit about shielding
I spent years in the corporate world; I wore a black suit and carried a laptop like they were armor. The rules of how to be helped me learn quickly how to do well. People loved having me on their team; I turned around client engagements, and fixed problems.
Thinking back, I realized, I knew how to be.
Which was all good (until it wasn’t), except there was this thing that wouldn't leave me alone. Writing. I wanted to write. Essays, stories, poems. I didn't know which, only that the longing felt nearly constant.
Why didn't I just do it? you might ask.
I had pens. I had journals. I said I didn't have time. And that certainly felt true - a big job with global teams, a house, a husband, two small children.
But looking back, I see it wasn't so much time that I lacked.
But rather, a willingness to be vulnerable. A willingness to say ‘yes, I'm going to try this thing that my heart wants so badly.’ To say that while holding in that same heart the fear I might not be able to do it.
What if I sat down and truly wrote, would my words sing? Would they touch people? Would they inspire, make them feel something?
Would my words matter?
The truth is, I didn’t know if they would matter. That felt scary, and that, at least in part, is what kept me from saying yes to my writing all those years ago.
To hold all of that in your heart—that desire coupled with the not knowing if the answer will be yes, your work will matter, knowing it could well be no—and declare to your very self you're going to do it anyway?
That is being vulnerable.
I still don’t know if my words matter. The words I write here, weekly. The poems. The posts. The essays. The stories…
They may on some days, to some people. They may not, to many more people.
The difference today is that the act of writing matters to me. And that saying yes to the creative work, despite all that it could mean, is what keeps me centered and moving forward.
Sometimes yes is a power statement. But sometimes we arrive at it, trembling and unsure, but willing to whisper it anyway.
What will you say yes to in your work this week?
Photo by Daiwei Lu on Unsplash
Do you want to write?
I have two upcoming opportunities to write with me—one donation based, and one free.
Placing Our Attention on the Everyday
On February 25th, I invite you to join me for this two-hour writing workshop where we will listen to and take inspiration from a variety of writerly voices who give homage to the ordinary. We will also have the chance to write to a series of writing invitations, staying open to whatever arises in our memory or from our imagination. This two-hour writing workshop is part of a fundraiser for Amherst Writers & Artists. Donations from $20-40. Click here for more information.
Sanctuary: A Free Writing Workshop
In these days of upheaval and chaos, it is more important than ever to find refuge. Not as a way of escaping but rather as a way of tending to ourselves and those we love, as a way of finding strength. On March 4th, I will be hosting a free two-hour writing workshop. In it, we will listen and take inspiration from diverse writings and have the chance to explore the idea of sanctuary by writing in response to unique writing invitations. Click here for more information and to sign up.