getting space: meditations from feeling cramped

If you could look in my closet right now, you’d learn a lot about me.

Okay fine, I’ll show you:

This is what happens when you don’t make decisions, Wellers. And what happens when you reward yourself AND console yourself by buying clothing. And what happens when you live with someone else who may not want to look at how much you love clothing. Thankfully, I know I always have Allie on hand to help a sister out, but I digress…

There is something alluring about Spring Cleaning, not just because we finally get rid of those winter dust bunnies, but because we gain something: space. In New York City, space is a commodity seemingly reserved for those who don’t ride the subway, or those who don’t live in one bedroom apartments, or those far, far away in the distant lands of the outer boroughs. (Astoria counts as the Upper East Side, right?)

So maybe, physically, space is a luxury. But, mentally, it is for the masses.

Sometimes getting space means getting perspective. Getting a good look at something. Getting all the facts first.

Sometimes having space means having a voice. Trusting your intuition. Fueling your fire.

Sometimes finding space means desaturating your News Feed. Keeping only the people and things in your life that allow you to breathe easier.

Sometimes being spacious means connecting with others who need you, or don’t know they need you. Seeing beyond your limitations and sharing a vision to help others. Not dumbing yourself down, shutting yourself up, or keeping yourself safe.

Sometimes giving space to another means seeing them authentically. Ducking out of the way. Letting them hear their own words. Trusting in them.

So maybe mental space is luxurious. But you already have the currency to buy it.

When do you need space the most? The least? How do you find it?

why you should go over the edge

Working at your edge. Allie and I talk about this all the time. We try to walk up to it, define it, encourage each other to work there and passed it. But what does that even mean? It's not something that someone else can illuminate for you. It's always changing, from moment to moment, because it's based on the mystery of your inner mechanism. The brain tied to the heart tied to the ability tied to the fear.

Sometimes when I look at highly functioning, well-funded, pristine and polished pieces of work I think - now those are the edgy and smart tastemakers. They have something going for them. And whatever it is, they've been able to alchemize it into profit or success or longevity. It's unnamable. We try to access it with words, but the more we try the more it escapes.  But we do know they have ideas that are validated by material affirmation.

Then sometimes I look at low functioning, budget-restricted, sloppy and unkempt pieces of work and I think - THAT is the edge. Diving into the abyss with no life raft, drifting on the bare bones of grit and hope. Not knowing if you'll ever land. There is something unmistakably dangerous when the odds are against you. We call it edgy because it's alone in the wilderness, where validation is extinct.

The only thing I know for sure about the edge is that it's where you are discovered. Whether it's easy or difficult or boring or frightening, it brings you out of you. Because no one else is there. No one else can show up to it. When the moment comes and you are standing heels on the line, toes dangling over it, the edge will tell you who you are.

Can you survive it? Can you balance on it - trying as hard as you can to stay centered and unshakable? Is that even the point? Or should we just tumble over, release that last piece of imagined control and find out who we are past the tipping point? I suppose the fear is of the complete and utter knowing of ourselves. The knowledge that means we can't go back. The possible disappointment. Or potential power.

Steven Pressfield calls this moment "turning pro." It's a sort of shutting off of whatever held you back in safety. A death of your pre-edge self. And like everything else in life, it's a choice. I don't know what it would look like for you - maybe relief, maybe freedom, or absurdity, or severity, or grace, or triumph. But I do know that your edge is an undiscovered no man's land - if you aren't there, no one is. But when we allow ourselves to pioneer our way into this unknown territory of ourselves, we become explorers for others, too. We allow them access to our edge and permission to reach their own. And when we do that, we just might make something worthwhile.

"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."

- Hunter S. Thompson

 What does your edge look like? Have you gone over it?

from scratch for 50 days: a creativity challenge

Starting from scratch. Oh Lawdy, how we love etymology and we looked this one up.

To start from scratch means: Begin (again) from the beginning, embark on something without any preparation or advantage. The phrase originated in 18th century sports when marks (scratches) were made on the ground and used to define the starting position of the game.

That turn of phrase elicits a peculiar combination of ideas. All of a sudden we're thinking failure, rebirth, discipline, determination, impossibilities, and potential. In just three words no less.

Think about it. You have had countless conversations with friends where the idea of starting from scratch - in a new job, a new relationship, a new apartment, a new city - just seems less than ideal. A struggle. An inconvenient waste of energy. And yet, time and again we still recognize that starting from scratch never becomes the energetic wasteland that we assume it will be. Starting from an absolute zero, without any advantage and riding on pure grit, holds more energetic potential than trodding along the beaten path.

As a culture, we value things more when they come from scratch. When we make something out of nothing. When it seems impossible and we do it anyway. When we start with no advantages and just go for our goal or our creation without reserving ourselves. For example: Cake. Better from scratch. New theatre. Better from scratch. Knit hats. Better from scratch.

What if starting from scratch wasn’t just something we only thought about when we got out of college? Or started a new job? Or moved to a new city? What if we released our dearly held perfection and our unacknowledged complacency? What if we started from scratch every day?

Unadulterated abandon.

Whimsical potential.

Free fall.

There is potential in every moment to create. Creation is not reserved for those with the advantages. The best, juiciest, most energetic creations come out of what the rest of the world might see as nothing. But you on the other hand, you see something. And no matter what that something shapes up to be, the fact that you saw it makes it your never-to-be-duplicated act of creation.

Here at Little Red’s Well, we know a thing or two about starting from scratch. This entire blog was built off of one conversation about clothing. Look around you, you know a thing or two about starting from scratch, too. Did you always live where you live? Were you always surrounded by the people you are surrounded by? Are you waking up every day and living the exact same life, or are you learning something new, meeting someone new, seeing something new each time the sun rises?

The answer is yep, you are. Sometimes, we’re just asleep to it. So in the spirit of creation being a deeply necessary color to our lives - we’re sending out a challenge to our readers and friends. A challenge we believe could change all of our lives for the better.

From Scratch for 50 Days: A Creativity Challenge

Starting on February 19th, you’ll start from scratch and create one new thing a day, documenting it via Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook, for 50 straight days.

What this is NOT...

...a competition to be the most creative.

...a test to finally create something perfect.

...a process open to judgment or criticism (from yourself or others).

What this IS…

...a challenge to habituate the act of creation in your life.

...a chance to find your own aesthetic.

...an opportunity to affirm your and other’s work.

Creations (could) include (but are not limited to): food, friendships, photographs, a new outfit, energy, poetry, art, music, design, rearranging your apartment, a scarf, making your bed, a fit life, change, and the list goes on...

The point is: there are acts of creation everywhere and you are already participating in them. When we open our eyes to this, we can create with more intention. Do you have a project you can’t get started? Or a relationship you need to mend? Or a crockpot you’ve been meaning to figure out how to use? There are no limitations and no requirements. Anyone can do this.

And there are prizes. (More on that soon.)

To get started - simply create something. Post it via IG, FB, or Twitter. Mention us @littleredswell and use #scratchfor50 so we can see your participation. Each week we will be giving you some inspiration in the form of a hashtag that you can feel free to use or not and to see what other Wellers are creating that week.

We start February 19th. You in?

are you in or are you out?

Are you in or are you out?

Most definitive moments of my life have happened from answering that question. The proverbial line had been drawn in the sand. The sharp edge of rock bottom had been hit. The last chance had been startlingly offered.

We are in or we are out.

And we can act like it’s a one time choice, but live any number of years with even partial awareness and you’ll recognize that this question repeats and repeats and repeats.

When I sit down to write, I begin. I delete. I begin again. I delete. And after a few minutes, I stop deleting and just let the words come as they will. That moment is when I say: I’m in. I’m in for the terrible ideas, the half-assed truths, the sentences that end with a preposition. I’m in because I know the longer I stay in the closer I come to flow. The longer I stay in the closer I come to finding my voice. But each time I type the period and begin the next sentence - I don’t know what I might write, I don’t know if it’ll be any good, all I do is choose, just for one more sentence, to stay in it.

A few months ago, I decided to be an actress again. No, I never “left the business” because that would be answering the question. I was straddling that limbo tightrope with circus-like skills, never really committing to The Life and never really abandoning The Dream. And then one day, I felt the question settle into my heart at the unmistakable point of no return and I said: I’m in.

When I was younger I believed integrity meant you made a choice and you stuck to it without ever questioning it again. But I think integrity has to do with honoring your truth - a subtle, shiftable, malleable truth that ebbs and flows with the inertia of your life. If you don't question the choices you've made, you've fallen asleep at the wheel. We choose, life changes us, we choose again. Truth with a capital T is painfully fluid, annoyingly un-static, temperamentally pliable. (Anyone who has argued politics knows that.) Now I believe that if you can hook your heart to your Truth, and allow yourself to be consumed by it, and then answer the question, choosing again for the 122nd time, that is integrity.

Integrity is being honest with yourself. Not shying away from what you need to face to be really, superbly present. Showing up again. Going to see your therapist one more time. Choosing your partner every morning. Following through on your dreams. It’s sitting down to write. It’s getting up to sing. It’s exposing yourself. Choosing yourself. Using your own alienation and loneliness to connect with others instead of retreating inside your self-made fortress. It’s choosing risk. It’s choosing openness. It’s choosing light. It’s choosing contentment. It’s choosing growth. It’s knowing you don’t know. It’s feeling what you feel. It’s understanding that complacency doesn’t mean life stops moving, but that life wrenches forward whether you're awake to it or not and what a shame it'll be if you miss it. It’s allowing yourself to get just unstuck enough so that you can answer the question one more time.

My second week of college I found myself in rehearsals with an absurdly talented and emotionally intelligent director. He shared this quote by Maya Angelou with us: “Have enough courage to trust love one more time, and always, one more time.”

Life lurches forward with momentum we can’t resist. Without a doubt, the crossroads will converge, the line will get drawn, the edge will be finally met, and you will be left with one question. Meet it, hear it, honor it, one more time, and always, one more time:

Are you in or are you out?

taking fear along for the ride

Five years ago, I was offered a creative opportunity I really wanted.

Here was my first reaction: Holy @#$% YES!!!

Here was my second reaction: Holy @#$%, I can’t do this.

Well I did it and did the best work I could, but I was haunted the entire time by feeling number two. What Brené Brown calls “gremlins,” what Steven Pressfield calls “Resistance,” what Craig calls “bullshit,” all of those thoughts crept in and around my creativity. I wasn’t free, I was looking in on myself, I was stifled and scared and plain old MEAN to myself. I considered all the terrible things people might say about me and told those things to myself first so that I was prepared. Prepared for what was surely going to be my inevitable demise and destruction by virtue of me simply showing up on the playing field. I left satisfied with the work I did, but feeling like I lost an important part of the creative act: the courage to be seen, or, authenticity.

So five years came and went with a lot of what Marc Maron calls "Thinky Pain." I earned some recognition. I got married. I didn’t work for a painful stretch of time. I was depressed. I got over it. I recommitted myself to the fact that my life’s work and purpose have nothing to do with stability and security (and certainly not affirmation). I redefined success as authenticity.

And then something happened. I was offered another opportunity I really wanted. And once again…

My first reaction was: Holy @#$% YES!!!

My second reaction: Holy @#$%, I can’t do this.

Because the lesson will keep showing up until you’ve met it face to face.

There was a time I thought I’d finally be free from fear - that I would know so much, or have so much experience that my confidence would be effortless. That I wouldn’t feel like a fraud. That my abilities would speak for themselves and the gremlins would quiet down. Now I know that despite the knowledge I develop, the experience I gather, the abilities I hone, the gremlins stick around. I know enough to know, I will never know enough.

And that is okay.

Five years ago, the unknown mystery of what I could possibly produce and accomplish frayed my nerves. I suffered because instead of embracing what I couldn’t predict, I fought against it. Nowadays, all I know is that I don’t know. All I can do is jump in with a full heart that includes both YES and I can’t do this. And somewhere in the battle between both feelings, work emerges. A bigger story is told. And the bullshit, while still along for the journey, takes a backseat to authenticity.

What's the scariest part of creativity for you?