Rest

Several weeks ago, my wife gave the sermon for our church retreat "Winter Escape." One of the subjects she addressed was the issue of rest. She cited a number of researchers and statistics that discussed how, as a species, we have developed the technology to be the most leisure-based society: the group that rests for the largest percentage of our time. However, the majority of working people tend to feel overworked.

I'm no exception. An eight-hour work day is a light day for me. As I type, I've already been at work (the school I teach at) for eleven hours, and yes I'm sneaking a minute from work to do some blogging- a different job, but still a form of work. 

Overwork and stress are the single biggest enemies to the creative mind. A writer might force themselves to sit at their computer for seven hours a day, but are they writing well?  The important thing isn't even to just get rest, the critical detail for a writer is to have enough to actually daydream. 

I remember a music theory class I took in college, where the teacher insisted the only important thing in one piece we were studying was the rests. In the creative process, the mind needs time to build, to dream. Forcing an overworked mind to pump out information, doesn't lead to better creation, or even necessarily to more creation.

Every time I sit down to write, I try to spend at least a half hour thinking of nothing. I let my mind wander. Perhaps I'll go on a walk, or perhaps I'll meditate. If I don't have time during a busy workday to have this creation time, I still spend at least ten minutes before I sleep allowing my mind to go anywhere. Little by little, the fires of the creative process are fanned, and the creation improves.

What moments of rest work for you?

A Workshop on Creativity

This past weekend, Rachel and I attended our fourth (her fifth) consecutive "Winter Escape," a retreat for like minded Unitarian Universalists in their 20s and 30s around the metropolitan DC area held annually.  For the first time, I presented workshops myself.  This year, I presented two workshops: one on creativity, and the other on improvisational theatre.

While my improv workshop had a much higher number of participants, I was extremely proud of the creativity work we did. We were housed in a large lodge on the banks of the Potomac, along Virginia's Eastern shore. I began the workshop by bringing my class outside, where we stared at a single object.  After staring for a full two minutes, I asked them to close their eyes, and envision the scene, remembering every sense they'd used.  We repeated this twice more.

We then came inside, and engaged in a meditation session, accompanied by guided imagery. I've used these strategies, which I learned as an actor, myself, but never with other writers. I then asked them to free-write in response to three prompts:

1. What is joy?

2. Who is joy?

3. Where is joy?

I didn't ask for their writings, but the participants told me they had a wonderful time, and left the session feeling invigorated, and that their creativity had been rekindled. Such compliments made me very happy.