Tag Archives: creativity

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Unearthing Creativity: A Journey Back to Morning Pages

Why do I write? Often, it’s a delightful blend of self-inspiration and cosmic detective work: nudging myself into new ventures, finding my footing in this wonderfully chaotic world, unearthing meaning in the mundane (or the magnificent), and generally figuring out why I am the way I am and what truly lights my fire today.

Lately, my quest has been to forge a morning routine template, a sort of daily superpower, to supercharge my creative process. As one does when seeking wisdom (or procrastination, depending on the day or moment…), I recently dove into the digital archives, specifically searching Facebook for “Morning Pages” groups. Lo and behold, a blog post I penned two and a half years ago popped up.

Reading it was… a punch to the gut. I’d written it during the harrowing time my eldest sister was in ICU, fighting for her life. A fight she ultimately lost. And with her, I lost my big sister, my confidante, my support system, my champion, my cheerleader, my friend.

As I reread those paragraphs, my mind went numb, tears pricked. Grief, it turns out, is a spectacularly messy business. It adheres to no timeline, no polite schedule. It’s less a well-behaved houseguest and more a rogue wave, crashing in when you least expect it. A name, a scent, or in my case, a few written words, can fling open the gates to a memory awash in all the feelings and emotions it contains.

I miss my big sister. I always will.

I’m learning to embrace that “always will,” so that when grief still washes over me, I can simply stop and feel the missing. It’s a quiet acknowledgment that the profound love we shared never truly died; it simply changed course when the river of life, carrying us both, split.

If you’d like to read the original post – which, despite the unexpected emotional detour, was all about reestablishing my habit of “Morning Pages” – you can access it here: https://dareboldly.com/2023/11/18/morning-pages-the-journey-of-self-recovery

Next week, I’ll be sharing a crash course in How to Set a Morning Routine – your personal blueprint for creative consistency. Watch for the announcement!

Embracing the Flow: Lessons from TEDxCalgary

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When you embrace the flow,

the energy of life

comes alive within you.

Last Friday, I had the joy of attending TEDxCalgary‘s event FLOW.

As an artist and writer, I am continually immersed in creative energy—whether I call it the muse, collective consciousness, my creative essence or simple, The Flow.

FLOW is dynamic energy. Quantum physics teaches us that energy exists as either particles or waves. In our daily lives, we mostly function as particles, but in our creative endeavors, we ride the waves.

Creativity is like a river, constantly flowing, shifting, and creating. Every day, I sit at my desk and gaze out at the Bow River, its ever-changing flow reminding me that all life is energy, and energy never stagnates, just as creativity is part of the energy of each and every human being on this planet.

So, where are you in the flow? Remember, you are not the river; you are part of the flow. Are you stuck in a belief that your current state, no matter how uncomfortable or sublime, is the only place you can be? Or can you embrace a belief that celebrates your creative nature which is an ever-moving, ever-changing state of being human in the flow of life?

Be like the river and flow free.

Attending TEDxCalgary’s event reminded me of a powerful moment I shared in my TEDxCalgary talk, Lessons in Love. In it, I retell the story of becoming so lost on the road of life that one day I stood at the side of a river and wished I could unhook gravity’s hold on my body, allowing myself to fall into the river and be washed out to sea. I was not that powerful, thankfully. But I was powerful enough to change my state of being and reclaim my love of life so that I could unhook myself from the trauma that brought me to that moment and flow with grace and ease through all life’s changing moments.

I invite you to watch my talk, where I delve deeper into this experience and the lessons it taught me about love, resilience, and the power of embracing life’s flow.

Thank you Lady M (a poem for April Poetry Month)

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For the last few years, the gifted and soulful Brian Pearson has been the guide of an online community, The Mystic Cave, which offers sanctuary to those searching for spiritual depth beyond conventional religions.

Brian describes The Mystic Cave podcast as “a haven for seekers—narratives, dialogues, and musings on the spiritual quest beyond the boundaries of church land.”

Our paths crossed when I was organizing an annual Christmas benefit concert, to support formerly homeless veterans, at St. Stephen’s Anglican Church in Calgary. As the head pastor, Brian not only opened the church’s doors for the “Christmas at The Madison” benefit concert but also graced the event with his soothing voice and masterful guitar play, captivating everyone, including my daughters.

With time, Brian ventured beyond the church to establish The Mystic Cave and, in doing so, has become a cherished friend and mentor.

Today, as I listened to Brian’s conversation with the luminous Meredith Heller—poet, educator, musician, songwriter, and a woman of incandescent spirit—on his podcast, the muse stirred and whispered her melodious urgings into my heart.

In the stillness of the morning, with my beloved asleep beside me and Beaumont the Sheepadoodle stretched at our feet, I lay immersed in the quiet, attuned to the breathing that filled the room, a lullaby of presence.

I listened. I felt. I heard.

The words beckoned.

With the exquisite silence of dawn wrapped around me, following the tender gratitude in Brian’s sign-off and the lingering echo of Meredith’s poetry dedicated to Lady J, the words surged within me, spilling forth with fervent ease.

Thank you Lady M
by Louise Gallagher

Love found me
    broken
pieces scattered without
rhyme or reason
    lost
in the darkness  
of knowing
the way home
    was through  
the pain
    of having been
      broken
        open
           to Love.

May we all find the courage to surrender to the call of the creative flame within us. May it compel us to rise and fully experience this transient, stunning life in all its fleeting beauty and ephemeral joy flowing in the enduring nature of Love.

And may this April Poetry Month awaken you to the poetry of your life.

Namaste

Claim Your Space: You’re Worth It.

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John Steinbeck once remarked, “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” This quote might as well be describing my writing space. It’s not flawless, but for me, it’s excellent – actually, it’s fantastic.

I’ve always encountered obstacles in creating the perfect workspace. Full disclosure: I’m what you might call a ‘space consumer’. Much like how I utilize every inch of our 15-foot by 4.5-foot kitchen island while cooking, my studio sees every available flat surface in use during my creative endeavors.

For a while now, the idea of reorganizing my studio to dedicate a specific area for writing has been on my mind. Initially, the thought of restricting myself to a writing corner seemed too limiting. Plus, I worried that it was some kind of decadant to have two areas of our home ‘just for me and my writing’? – at least that’s what I kept convincing myself.

However, a persistent internal voice challenged this notion, suggesting that perhaps these thoughts were self-imposed limitations. Why not stretch my thinking beyond them?

Thus, on Friday morning, propelled by an inner urge to “Get out of bed and create a writing space in your studio,” I took action. No second-guessing.No hesitation. I got doing.

The task wasn’t minor, but it was gratifying. It also came with a reminder to myself: to cease the accumulation of art supplies and the hoarding of miscellaneous paper scraps ‘just in case’.

My ‘Writer’s Corner’

The decluttering and rearrangement yielded a transformed space. Now, I have two surfaces dedicated to my art and a cozy corner desk for writing.

This change has brought a sense of satisfaction, contentment, and inspiration. It was so invigorating that I spent the entire day yesterday writing!

Of course, my art supplies still demand an extensive reorganization, but that’s a task for another day. Currently, I’m reveling in the clarity and peace of having a designated space that, when I sit at my desk, silently encourages, “Now we write.”

My morning writing desk

I still adore my morning writing spot in front of the large window on our main level, offering views of our yard and the river. The sight of the river flowing past, and the distant views of traffic on the bridges invoke a sense of calm and wonder. It’s delightful.

Yet, there’s an undeniable charm in a snug, personal space that beckons my curiosity and kick-starts my creativity. Here, I can spread out my papers and let my thoughts flow freely – a luxury not afforded by the great room’s writing area in our home, where sticking notes on walls or scattering pages on the floor isn’t feasible.

Now, I can do just that.

Claiming your creative space is not just a luxury; it’s a necessity for nurturing your creativity. Whether it’s a small corner, a whole room, or just a dedicated nook, creating your own sanctuary for creativity is a right we all deserve. It’s about making a space that resonates with you, where your ideas can flow freely and where your artistic soul feels at home.

What about you? Do you have a special spot – a corner, alcove, room, or attic – where your creativity thrives? What’s holding you back from creating it?

Watch me! #BellLetsTalk

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No. 54 #ShePersisted Series
Mixed media on canvas paper
11 x 14″
©2020

It has been a while since I created a painting for the #ShePersisted series I began in March 2017.  Yesterday, I pulled out a background I’d created on the weekend, drew a circle and began to throw down paint.

I didn’t know what I was going to paint. I didn’t have a destination or image to reference. I was going with the flow and letting whatever appeared to be what was visible on the canvas.

She appeared.

She was challenging. Faces always are for me.  They take practice. Skill. An understanding of light and its play with the shadows. A willingness to mess up and dig in.

They’re best painted with a reference photo.

I had none. Somewhere, early in the process, I made a commitment to myself to paint from within me, to use my inner memory/knowing of the face as my reference.

It’s a wonderful challenge. There’s that scared, uncertain place within me where I worry I don’t know enough, I need something solid to guide me. There’s that voice of doubt that takes great joy in whispering, “You can’t do it.”

And then, there’s the vibrant, alive place within me that doesn’t like can’t and don’t and shouldn’t. That voice likes to leap into the fray, calling upon my courage and self-belief to rise up and call out joyfully, “Watch me.”

I painted a woman’s face yesterday.

I didn’t think I could.

And then I did.

I love the magic that happens when I let go of working hard to control the process and instead let myself be the process.

I love the mystery that opens up to wonder when I accept it’s not about ‘doing it perfect’. It’s not about creating something that is a reflection of something else. It’s all about allowing what is calling itself to be expressed from within to become visible on the canvas before me.

This morning, as I look at her, that little voice of doubt and uncertainty, the one who likes to find criticism in so many things, it wants to tell me all the things I could have done differently. I could still change.

I’m not listening. Not heeding that voice. It is the voice of the past. The voice of millennia of women being told they can’t, they musn’t, they shouldn’t, they don’t dare.

I dare.

Yesterday, I painted a face.

Her origins are a mystery. Her story is not.

She is every woman before me who was told she couldn’t.

She is every woman who was shut down, put in her place, pushed into dark alleys and corners, hidden from the light, hidden from the truth of her power, her beauty, her strength, her courage.

She is every woman who was told she had no power, no voice, no right.

She is every woman who was held captive to the lie she had to be perfect. That she would never be enough. The voice that still whispers from the dark roots of the past, “You can’t do that.”

They said, “You can’t do that.”

The wise woman within rose up and shouted to the winds and the seas, the stars and moon, to heaven and earth, “Watch me!”

________________________________________________

Today is “Bell Let’s Talk Day“.

Speaking up about mental health is important. Taking action is vital. Erasing stigma. Changing minds. Providing supports and help for those whose mental health is preventing them from living joyful and productive lives is imperative for everyone.

Changing the story of how we view mental health changes how we treat each other, how we build strong and healthy relationships and how we create a better world.

For women, our mental health is tethered to a past where we had no voice, no rights, no power. A past where we lived under the shadow of men and the laws and societal mores that were designed to create a ‘just and fair’ society and that ultimately were tools to keep us in our place.

There is no place in the shadows for freedom, self-efficacy, self-determination, equality, self-hood.

Cutting the ties that bind is an important act, not of rebellion but of freedom.

May we all be free to speak up. May we all know we have the power to take positive action to be actively engaged in creating a world where everyone has a place to belong, no matter the state of their gender, race, sexual orientation, faith, beliefs and economic, mental or physical state of being.

I See You. I Hear You. I Am Not Afraid.

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The story of life is a never-ending river flowing toward a distant sea. Every moment filled with endless Love flowing free.

When I sank into meditation yesterday, I gave myself the opportunity for my inner knowing deep within my belly to rise up in response to the question, “What are you afraid of?”

The answer surprised me.

It wasn’t death. Success. Failure. Speaking in public. Or even growing old and losing all my faculties, or not. Sometimes it feels like growing old is scary with all my faculties!

No. The answer that rose up was one near and dear and very familiar to me. You fear Letting Go and Being Present. Flow with it. Be the flow.

Playing in my studio yesterday afternoon, I breathed into my fear and painted the wind with all the colours of the rainbow.

I let go and let whatever was calling out to appear to become what was being created.

In the letting go, I discovered what the question was calling out to me to acknowledge: Writing a novel is a scary undertaking. I have written two in the past and done nothing with them even though their birthing was a painful process and advance readers really liked them.

‘Doing the work’ is not what I fear. It’s the ‘owning the work’, being responsible for its path after birthing that absolutely terrifies me. (More on this at a later date.)

For now, I need to get honest about the little bitty issue of how I become in the process that concerns me and gives me pause to procrastinate, dawdle and avoid.

See, I know what happens when I become immersed in ‘the story’. Time. Space. The world around me falls away and I turn into a ‘storyzilla!’  You know, an out of control bridezilla without the veil and white dress and all the wedding stuff going on, just the blank white page staring at me every morning.

In its presence, I swing between the polar opposites of every interruption becoming an imposition warranting sharp and nasty ‘get out of my space’ comments from me. Or, every interruption appearing like an invitation to step away from my laptop and have a coffee. Go for a walk or even, clean the toilet. Yup. When I’m writing (or more specifically, not writing) I have the cleanest toilets in town!

This is why the art journal spread that appeared is so fascinating and revealing to me.

A young girl is walking into a monstrous wind. Unafraid, undaunted she stands her ground and keeps staring the storm down. Of course, she’s got her best friend in tow to keep her company but he is walking behind her, using her as his shield. She is the warrior. The priestess. The one who will not be silenced.

Which, based on the storyline of my novel, is incredibly prescient.

But wait! There’s more.

Here’s how the subconscious really kicks in. In one scene in my story, a young five-year-old girl is playing in the woods with her mother. Her boots and winter coat are loden green, the colour her mother dyed the wool. The little girl really wanted her mother to dye the wool red.

Without consciously connecting working on my art journal page to the story I’m writing (or avoiding writing – you pick), I painted the little girl in the painting’s coat and boots red. Hmmm…. colour me blown away.

And….. the little girl also likes to pick yellow flowers and give them to her mother.

WHAT??? I painted yellow flowers and yes, their pop of colour is an important design element, but I hadn’t connected them to the story I’m writing until I awoke this morning and the answer awoke with me.

Being responsible for the birthing and caring of a story is scary. Fear is not a reason to not do it.

So, slowly, quickly, whatever speed I go, this is me facing my fears, letting go and getting busy writing it out (while being present to however I appear in the world around me with love (and a whole lot of compassion) because believe me, I ain’t funny when I’m focused.

Perhaps it’s best I do an advance apology session with my beloved so he is not surprised when storyzilla roars!

However it goes, that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it!

Namaste

NaNoWriMo

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When I signed up on a whim for the 2 day, 20,000 word weekend designed to kick off NaNoWriMo (which stands for National Novel Writing Month) I was hoping to get the word count in on a novel I began crafting a few weeks ago.

Arriving at the Alexandra Writer’s  Centre (AWCS) in C-Space, I felt a little intimidated. There were about 20 people scattered between 3 rooms, laptops open in front of them, busily typing away at tables, sitting on the couches, or sprawled out in one of four easy chairs in the conversation corner.

Taking a reassuring breath, and after introducing myself to the host, Anne Meticosh (author of four books) I found a spot at a table, booted up my laptop and began to type.

Okay, so my diving into the weekend writing wasn’t quite that quick. To buy some time, and perhaps (ok. most definitely) to escape the terror of that blank screen, I went downstairs to the main floor and bought a latte. I checked out a few of the vendors as they set up for the Saturday morning Farmer’s and Maker’s Market and then I sat down in front of my laptop.

I still didn’t begin to type. I read and re-read the outline I’d developed for my novel and dove into the prologue of my story. After finishing it, and then the first chapter, I felt somewhat disoriented. While I was pretty sure what the issue was, I needed to clear my head.

You got it. I went for another latte and a longer stroll through the market.

It was while watching three dogs engage in a staring contest from the safety of their owners’ sides that it struck me what was wrong.

Unlike those dogs who were doing what came naturally to them, I didn’t know what came naturally to my characters.  I hadn’t written their backstories and thus, couldn’t draw from the well of their ‘normal’ response to situations as I wrote.

Back upstairs at my table, I went back to the drawing board. I let go of my 20,000 word goal as I dug into writing out ‘what my story’s all about’ and crafting backstories for the people populating it.

It was a long, fruitful and deliciously inspiring weekend. Surrounded by fellow creatives, I dove into the mystical landscape of a story unfolding and while I didn’t get a lot of work done on the actual manuscript (no 20,000 word prize for me) I did come away with a better understanding of what the story is that I’m trying to tell, and even more importantly for me, why I want to write it.

Thank you AWCS, Anne and all the fellow creatives who filled that space with such wonderful energy and inspiration.

I am so thankful my whim to enter the weekend pushed, pulled, dragged and compelled me back to the writing well.

Next, I shall be blocking my days out to include ‘novel’ writing time along with my studio time. And… just to go all public on myself, my goal this month is the NaNoWriMo 50,000 word count!

Wish me luck! (which also means I may not be here as much as I’ll be buried in story and delving into the craft!)

A Heartful Month (a 30 day art project)

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Day 1 – 30 Day Art Project
A Heartful Month
“Let Your Heart Sing Out Loud”

An amazing woman I recently met when taking one of her art courses, suggested that if I want to engage in xx# of days of art, I simply pick a subject, a timeframe and begin.

So I have.

For the next 30 days, I will be creating one piece of art a day on the theme of ‘heart’. I’m calling it, “A Heartful Month”. (Thank you Annette Wichmann of Kensington Art Supply for the inspiration.)

The theme is aligned with the half-day workshop I will be offering in October here in my Wild at Heart Studio — Discover Your HeartSong. As I develop the framework for the day, I want to focus on what it means to know my own heartsong; to recognize it, embody it, dance with it and free it through self-expression. Committing to a 30 day project will keep me living with loving attention and curiousity in the exploration of the question, “What is my heartsong?”

As with most projects, I think about doing it, and then hesitate (Dang that critter!). I worry that I’ll look stupid. I’ll fail/fall down. I doubt myself… What if I break my commitment? What if I miss a day?

The beauty of the 30 day art project is that it’s a self-guided process. It’s not meant to be an onerous task. It’s simply an opportunity to make a commitment, challenge myself, and to deepen my understanding of an idea/theme/process/skill. It’s meant to be a joyful, gentle opportunity to explore and create a habit — in this case, the habit of creating one piece of art a day that does not take more than 20 – 30 minutes.

Which is where the real challenge of the 30 day project comes in for me. I tend to get lost in creation, letting go of all concept of time. To give myself a time limit is…. scary.

I’ve decided I’m up to the challenge. I’d better be because one of the aspects of the challenge is to post whatever I create, every day, on social media, and while I may not be posting it on my blog everyday, I shall be putting it up on my instragram feed.  (mlouiseg88)

That’s one sure way to keep me honest with myself!

The pressure is on!

Of course, this upcoming weekend, while I am committed to my 30 day project, I won’t be posting what I created until after the weekend. My youngest daughter and I are hiking in Friday to a remote mountain lodge and I will be unplugging (ok, it’s unavoidable as the lodge is out of cell range and has no electricity). I won’t be ‘coming back to civilization’ until Sunday afternoon.

It promises to be a heartful mother/daughter weekend. All we need to carry in are our clothes, which means I’ll be able to slip in a couple of pieces of watercolour paper and a few watercolour pencils into my backpack!

Yesterday, to welcome in A Heartful Month, I created an opening piece (and yes, it did take me longer than 20 – 30 minutes but Hey! Rome wasn’t built in a day.) I started the piece with the intention of creating a signature piece for my Discover Your HeartSong workshop. (Which is also my excuse for why it took longer than 30 minutes! Signature pieces take time.)

It wasn’t until after I had finished the piece that I decided to create my 30 days of art project.

Which is often how happy accidents happen. I do something, discover a new idea along the way, and then follow that thread to see where it will lead me.

I have no idea what I will discover along my 30 days of art project — I am confident it will challenge me, excite me and open me up to new ideas that will provide other threads to follow as I explore the question, “What is my heartsong?”

What an exciting space to be present and open to exploring!

And… if you’re interested in joining in, jump in anytime!  It would be lovely to have company on the journey! (send me a message and let me know if you are so I can follow your progress too!)

_______________________

I wanted to play with sewing on paper and painting on fabric — so this piece piece incorporates both.

 

Does fear stop you from creating?

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Work in Progress. No. 44
#ShePersisted Series

Over at Live and Learn yesterday, David Kanigan shares an expert from a Robert Ito article in the NY Times about funny-man Ray Romano.

“It’s just doubt, that’s the biggest thing.”

Doubt, uncertainty, insecurity can keep me from doing things I love.

Like painting.

I have begun working on No. 44 of my #ShePersisted series.

No. 44.

It’s taken me awhile to get to No. 44. With every piece I complete, I worry the next one won’t appear. Or won’t be any good. Or won’t ring true.

I worry I can’t paint. I’m not creative enough. I don’t have any talent.

And in my worry, I hesitate. I avoid. I ‘take a break’, convincing myself it’s what I need, even though I know, that’s the lie.

Deep within me, to the farthest reaches of every cell in my body, I feel the compelling and vital desire to express myself creatively, to dig into my creative essence and let it flow free.

And still I hesitate. Stall. Pause.

Until finally, the pressure grows so great I know there is only one way to release it.

I put brush to paint to canvas if only to prove my fears right. And in the act of proving them right I push through. My fear. My insecurity. My doubt.

I don’t know what else to do.

I know the fears and doubts are there.

I just can’t let them win. I just can’t let them own me, or worse yet, deprive me of doing something I find so satisfying, so joyful, so life-giving.

Creating. Painting. Writing.

For me, these are life-giving passions that dance an uncomfortable jig in the darkness and lightness of their ever present need to be expressed.

Giving into the darkness, I feel bereft. Empty. Defeated.

Yet, to give into the lightness, I must struggle through the dark. I must dance with my fears and turn them to the light so that I can set myself free to create, even in my fears, even in my doubts and insecurities.

The world is filled with creative soul’s clamouring to be free. Now, more than ever, as world events seemingly spiral over the edge of reason, we must all let go of our reasons to not create, to not bring our soulful essence into being. We must release ourselves from the darkness and begin to create in the light of knowing, the kind of world we need, the world we deserve to live in is filled with beauty, wonder and awe and above all, peace.

Namaste.

 

The Poetry of a river

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FullSizeRender (25)

Art Journal Entry February 17, 2015 ©2015 Louise Gallagher

The poetry of a river
is heard
in the depths
of its joy
flowing freely
into the sea
of life.

The poetry of life
is found
in the river
of joy
flowing endlessly
into the heart
of Love.

I can’t remember where or when I read or heard the line, the poetry of a river,  but I remember thinking, I must remember that, it’s beautiful.

Last night, when I entered the studio to spend some contemplative time, the line appeared and the word/art flowed.

I am grateful for the quiet. For the time to simply be present in front of a blank canvas or journal page.

In the presence of its invitation to let creativity flow, my mind empties and I become full of wonder and awe at how easy it is to find my balance when I let go of holding onto the thought, ‘I must find my balance’.

I am neither out of or in balance. I simply am where ever I am, living whatever label I give myself for where I am.

In letting go of needing to find my balance, I find my path through the questions that are percolating on the edge of my consciousness.

I am in a phase of extreme busy at work right now.

I am planning a large event for 400 people for March 3rd, which entails not only planning for the event, but also editing, publishing, printing a large report along with a website and video. It is work I love but the timeframe to get it all done is very tight given that the date for the event was set at the end of January.

It’s meant some busy days, and as is apparent by the time at which I’m writing, sleepless nights.

Spending time in the studio is essential for me to keep balanced and present. Spending time in the studio is something ‘the critter’ would like me to avoid.

“Just veg out Louise,” he hisses into my left ear when I change out of my work-a-day clothes into my paint splattered comfies. “Go on. Sit in front of the TV and turn your mind off. You don’t need to create.”

Of course, there’s the voice of ‘uber conscientiousness’ trying to cut in too. “Louise. You have not yet read that report on Collective Impact. What is your problem?”

Ever notice how critters and other nefarious voices have a definite style and place? Mine sits on my left shoulder, jumping up and down in its attempts to get me to pay attention, flinging its arms and flapping its tail as it whispers un-sweet ditherings into my ear.

He likes to ensure he’s hard to ignore!

Fortunately, I know what’s good for me even in the face of his insistence he knows better.

Fact is, when immersed in busy, I need to give myself the gift of time to create in order to let go of the pressure building on my list of ‘to do’s’ if I am to avoid the panic that sets in when thinking about all I have yet to get done.

What’s your path to balance? Where do you go to give yourself space to be present?