Over the past few years, I’ve encountered many forks-in-the-road that have required big decisions. Decisions that were significant enough to wonder what would’ve happened if I’d picked the other option. There have been multiple, unexpected moments of diversion that required choices. Choices that, like any choice we make whether we pay attention to it or not, would set off a series of sequential events like dominos.
In facing these choices, if I had the time, I’d weigh the pros and cons, go inward and reflect, pause to get in touch with the potential outcomes of each decision and which option felt better.
But a lot of that internal reflection process was also coupled with trying to figure out which choice would be the “right” one.
I don’t know about you, but my brain is often searching for the “right” answer or indicators from life that I’m on the “right” path. There’s a comfort in this idea of “rightness,” a sense that if it’s “right” then I am safe.
If it’s “right,” then I can relax. If it’s “right,” then I can let go. If it’s “right,” then I can exhale and be fully present to all of life.
While there’s comfort in the idea of rightness, it is also an incredibly black and white, constricting construct. It’s a lot of pressure to attempt to make decisions with the end-goal of “right,” or make empowered choices to then only second-guess if it’s the “right” one, to scan outward for external validation of “right” rather than dropping into what feels meaningful and values-driven in this present moment.
Rightness, without mindful awareness, can lead to rigidness.
And what I’ve come to realize over time (which will likely continue to reshape and evolve over even more time) is that “right” simply means alignment. Flow. Fluidity. Like relaxing into the current of a river and allowing it to carry you forward.
While alignment and flow and the idea of “right” can feel really good, sometimes it’s really good to be wrong.
To not get it “right.” To be out of alignment. To get lost.
Sometimes it is only by straying from the path that we can find our way back to what truly matters, what is authentic, and what is in alignment.
Sometimes, most times, it is only through knowing what it feels like to be without a direction, without a compass, without a clue of what next step to take that we can truly sink into and trust the comfort that comes with vision and clarity and purpose when we have it.
But getting lost is uncomfortable and scary. It’s vulnerable and exposed. It makes sense that in the attempts to deflect this discomfort, there’s the narrative to avoid getting lost and avoid getting it wrong at all costs. A story that getting lost is the worst thing that could happen. That “Lost” is some forever-black-hole-void-of-a-space that keeps us stuck with no way out.
But in the attempt to avoid “Lost,” one of the main things I see happen to so many creatives - myself included - is that we look to other people’s paths as a blueprint thinking that is our map, that is our way, that is the clear-cut, linear journey away from the unknowns and potential discomfort of internally-guided choices.
But unfortunately it’s not that easy. Don’t get me wrong, other people’s paths can provide valuable insight, clues, and tidbits of information that can help us gain clarity on our own journey, but others’ paths will never be a carbon-copy blueprint for what we must explore on our own journey.
In fact, the more we seek direction and clarity from others’ paths, the more lost we can get.
Our own internal compass and guidance-system can feel so unknown that it may feel more natural to think someone else’s seemingly successful path is the recipe for clarity and staying on track. But our internal compass is actually the tool to avoid getting lost.
So why do we shy away from it?
Making decisions solely from our intuition, from our own internal guidance system, and our unique compass requires full, unabashed self-ownership of both successes and failures. There’s nobody to blame if things go wrong, no external course or coach or guide to deflect the discomfort of mistakes onto, nobody to hide behind when the success feels new and vulnerable.
And with full self-ownership, internally-guided decisions, and radical self-trust comes incredibly grounded power:
the power of living an authentically imperfect aligned life.
Over the past year of slowly releasing my grip on my creative business (more on that here), I spent a lot of time reflecting on how the deeper I got into my business, the more I’d find comfort in outsourcing my discomfort of unknowns, of not seeing the entire path ahead, and of not knowing the next ten steps by looking at other people’s art, business models, and marketing plans. And then trying to replicate it.
That worked in bits and pieces, but not as a collective whole. I’d hit a point where something didn’t feel quite right, so I’d outsource, again.
Rinse, repeat.
Again, it’s not black and white. There were incredibly useful aspects of looking to others’ artwork and businesses. And it’s not to say there was zero percent authenticity. It was all a mix. But at a certain point, that inner voice got more and more distanced the more and more I looked outward for inspiration.
The issue was that this was an externalized way of creating both art and business that was taking me further and further from the inner creative voice that is the birthplace of authenticity and true, aligned direction.
And this makes total sense. It feels so much safer to replicate something that is already out in the world working for someone else. If it worked for them it will work for me, too, right? If their art style is popular, then that must be what I should create, too, right?
But authenticity always has a way of shining through regardless of how hard we try to ignore it, stifle it, or protect ourselves from owning it.
As I released more and more aspects of my business and let myself let go, there was space and freedom to remember how I felt creating art at the start:
• When it was a conversation between the depths of internal feeling and material.
• When it was a collaboration between the idea and the tools.
• When it was an internal flow state that didn’t have every answer figured out, but had the next step.
I got curious and excited about creating from this space, again. Curious about where the path might lead by tuning in and only following the very next clear action.
I bet as a fellow artist you know this feeling - when you sit down to create, when you’re really present with your materials, your art guides you. It’s some sort of magic where as you put a mark on paper, that mark leads to the next and the next and the next.
Art, the creative force, guides us on what to do next when we tune in to listen. The way to deeply know the next steps on our unique path is to turn inward. As we get lost, which is a necessary and essential part of the process, the creative voice will guide us back into alignment, again if we make space to hear it.
Returning to this internal, collaborative version of the art process has led me to see daily life in a new way, as well. As someone who typically loves a plan and the comfort of always being ten steps ahead, tapping back into this internally-guided way of making art has provided some (hey, it’s a process) breathing room, expansion, and excitement about what’s possible when I trust things to unfold with each next step.
There’s magic that can enter in when we own our journey, stop outsourcing our steps to someone else’s path, and trust the process.
And that magic? I’ll trade the perceived comfort of “right” for the expansive, full-life experience that comes with the unknowns of charting the path one step at a time.
Studio News:
I’m stoked to share that the next step on this path is the re-opening of my Art Shop on March 20th! Join me here to get all of the updates and info.
Thanks for reading Liz Brindley | Notes from the Studio!
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