Have you ever felt too wounded or too damaged to create?
Or perhaps you have felt the opposite, that you’re too content, or too normal to be considered creative.
Maybe you were called names or people attached labels to you: too sensitive, a worry-wart, too shy, too introverted, too loud, too big, too small, too dumb.
Every single one of has a universe of stories within. Every single one of us struggles with something internally that the world can’t see.
Each of us was called Too Something by some well-meaning or ill-meaning person who thought they knew better than us.
This can make us feel terribly misunderstood. Feel unseen for who we really are.
This is the grain of sand that gets inside the oyster and potentially becomes the pearl.
This is the chaos that, if we take the effort to transmute our suffering into something constructive, rather than destructive, we will have something that shines, sparkles, delights.
All the work we are doing together, I did a alone first, because it was something that soothed me as a child growing up in chaotic environments that were always changing.
Then I showed this work to my patients, when I worked as a therapist in psychiatric hospitals.
I said, “This isn’t really therapy, but this is what I did to make me feel better when I was sitting where you are sitting. This is what helped me more than talking.”
And so we cut and pasted, wrote, and painted through blank books together.
Chaos gave birth to a dancing star.
These days, chaos is mostly contained to my work table. Well, my whole physical space, really. I’m three-dimensionally challenged in terms of space organization.