Sacred Shit

I make coffee most mornings, first thing in the morning.

I roll out of bed, straight to the coffee maker and with still-blurry eyes, make a pot.

Today was different. Today I rolled out of bed to the store because we were out of coffee.

Decidedly not as fun.

True confession: something like this can throw off my whole morning, sometimes day. I need a morning routine. I need to roll out of bed, make coffee, sit in the sun, read, journal. I need that time, that space of no-thing.

Without that space I can lack clarity, calm and the ability to create.

Without that space, I am easily hijacked. By social media, laundry, a text asking me to pay a bill. I get hijacked and I lose connection to myself. Suddenly, unconsciously, I’m down the rabbit hole of what new pillow to buy so I don’t wake up with a crick in my neck.

This hijacking is a huge danger to creativity.

So much of creativity is getting yourself in a position to receive. To listen. Butt in chair, as Anne Lamott says. And our world is loud. Creating this kind of receptive space is a big fuck you to our loud world. It has to be intentional. I’m talking double birds. If the world gets its claws in me before I’ve made intentions around my day, I’m fucked. Buying pillows.

As artists/writers/creators/makers, we have to carve out space. It’s not a nice-to-have. It’s a non-negotiable.

Like I said — Make it a routine

Block it off on your calendar and for god’s sake don’t schedule over it. Friend calls to ask you for a favor? No. Colleague wants to meet up for coffee? No. You know that arcade game, Fruit Ninja? If it conflicts with this time on your calendar, slice.

Block out distraction as if your life depends on it

I can’t remember a time when I had the sound on on my phone. Sound is always off. Notifications are almost all off. Create the conditions where you are in control. You decide when the phone gets your attention, not the other way around. Leave the phone in another room. Close the door. Lock it if you have to. Noise cancelling headphones. Get them. Wear them. Keep Out sign for the door. Hang it.

Create actual, physical space

I am not one for making art in the kitchen. The kitchen is for cooking, which I do not enjoy. I don’t need that bad juju when I’m making art. I need a space that is energetically set up for my success. Full of things I love, am inspired by, feel good around. A desk, a corner of a room, whatever it is — dedicate it to creating and only creating. This is sacred is shit.

Make sure you have the things you need

What are your tools? Ergonomic chair? Flair pens? Cutting mat? New speakers? Scanner? What do you need? Please get these things. Or save up for them and get them. Make a trade, barter, do what you gotta do so that you have what you need. This is important.

I, for one, am going to make sure I always have coffee in the house. Cheers!

Manifestation vs Faith

Last year I shared some mockups for album art to Instagram. In the caption, I declared to the Universe that one day, I would like to do some album artwork, dammit! I don’t think I actually said the dammit part, but it was the implied spirit.

Last week, a friend who had seen that post reached out with a job for me.

Modern proclivity would have me say I manifested this. That I told the Universe what I wanted and the Universe delivered.

I don’t think this is what happened.

Jump and Pray. It’s our mantra around here, right? But what does it mean?

In creative work, in life, we constantly walk the line between action and surrender. We put ourselves out there — we go for the job, we write the book, we apply for the residency. And then we surrender.

It’s common to think that surrender is a type of inaction. We sit back, kick our feet up, let whatever happens, happen.

But surrender is an action, too.

Surrender contains rest, trust, faith.

When I told the Universe (and everyone on Instagram) that I wanted to do some album art, I had faith that one day this would happen. I had zero doubts.

Delusional? Maybe. Or maybe this is where the magic lies.

That we humans can dream a thing to life. And that we do it with the help of something greater than us, something that’s inside every one of us, something that put that dream there in the first place.

So make your vision boards, make your declarations. But mostly do the inner work that moves you toward faith. Faith in self, faith in the Universe conspiring in your favor.

We are co-creators. We don’t work alone. It’s a big weight off, don’t you think?

All this shit matters

I know it’s not what you want to hear but love is who you are.

Love is the essential reality.

Not hate. Not violence. Not division.

Love.

It’s almost impossible to believe it’s true. And even harder to believe that it’s not just true of any one person, but of every single one of us.

At our truest nature, underneath the heavy weight of it all, we are love.

Me, you, Charlie Kirk, Tyler Robinson, Jimmy Kimmel, the guy who makes your latte, the girl who bags your groceries, the neighbor who leaves their trash bins out 24/7, that random guy on instagram, the boss who picks on you — everyone, all of them, love.

Are we other stuff too?

Yeah. We are. We are a mix of shit, a beautiful and strange concoction of love and hate and everything in between and all of it is okay but what’s not okay is letting the hate win because it doesn’t have to.

Hate doesn’t have to win.

When hate wins, it’s because we have forgotten who we are. That’s it.

And it’s not always our fault. We get distracted by lies the world tells. Lies like I am better than you or getting revenge will feel good or even I don’t matter.

I have news: you matter. All this shit matters. Have you heard of the butterfly effect? How a butterfly flapping it’s wings can cause a tornado? Seemingly minor changes in events can have massive, rippling consequences - for better or worse.

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This morning I made a cup of coffee and wrote in my journal. I told it my worries and hopes and complaints and then I closed it shut. I set my coffee cup on top, to hold the pages down. To keep the words in. To keep them contained. And then I lit a candle. I lit another because one didn’t feel like enough. I asked Spirit to meet me. I pulled three cards from the tarot deck: Maturity, Patience, Flowering. And I thought about flowers. How flowers require patience and patience is a type of wisdom and how maturity is a merging with what is. A merging with the flowers that bloom and die and bloom again. The truth of impermanence. The fragility of life. The beauty therein.

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May we embrace our true nature with all our fucking hearts.