The Writer Not The Critic

Down the Rabbit Hole… Again

Have you ever done something where the memory of it was so bright, so clear, that you wanted to be touched by that experience again? I did some learnings a long while back that had that very deep imprinting on me. Where I can still recall the detail of rooms, of people, of muted conversations, moments of raucous laughter, of subtle changing.

So, many, many years later, almost a decade reached, I decided to see how things had aged, changed, or plain grown. If the vivid,  silver, memories of overflowing enthusiasm, the glinting eagerness of like-minded souls, was so very different now. The fascination of times once lived, drew me back. Fresh eyes observed what the passing years can do. So a path well-trodden, was seen a-new.

Recognition was there. Warm hugs of welcome, and a feeling of 'still here'. Knowledge, engagement, listening. Questioning and challenging. The magic formula was cast again, colours seeping through.  Different, yet the same. It involved, it paced and it led, nudging and awakening, what we were there to learn.

Simple steps:

"What made you come?"
"Why are you here?"

Then, more probing:

"What is that, in a word?"

So from that very word, that "curiosity" that had drawn me, all the rest, flowed.

Imagining, the very, very end. What did I need to do, have done by then? How would this word serve me, and what did that knowledge reveal, right here, right now?

So from simple, simple steps, I reached those levels, more profound. Who I was. Chose to be. At this ending. My hopes and my dreams.

Drink Me!

Then a change. A different tack. Much, much, more delving. Conversations had, discussions, light, dark, humorous and revealing.

"What three things are you really good at?"

And in my Group, I responded:

"I'm really good at empathy."
"I'm really good at creativity."
"And, I'm really good at cooking."

They chose to know about my creativity. And, I answered, did my best, to tell them what I felt. What I did, and how I was, when I was in the 'flow'.

But, this was just the beginning.

Now came that crunch, the "why?", of this curiosity. What would they have to do, to emulate, to model the 'me' who was the Writer, the Painter and the Poet. How could they gain that expert touch, and release their creative souls?

It should have been easier. The questions were there, printed clearly to see. The objective, the intent well known. Internal state. Internal computations.. External behaviours. Their role to notice, observe and model the distinctions I made clear. But, I floundered. I tried to answer. Honesty and clarity, I tried. But, I had never analysed. What it was that I did, before I entered that state, that gifted space, and creativity, it flowed.

I did not know the answers then, but quiet reflection, silence, has since revealed, there is a process, an A, B, C, that allows for some replication. Once I have sipped that sweet heady taste of my home made brew. My own, my very special mug of spiced, cinnamon-laced, rich, rich, chai. I knew. There is an intent, a motivation to create, a driving force within. A visual outcome, words aglow, are there waiting to be freed. The restraint cast by that critical voice that stills the flow, is quietened. Life's rich material lies at the core of all the expressions, the lines, the dabs that reveal what was intended.

The uniqueness of creating is yours, but the way is clear. Leave the routes you know behind, the heart can speak, and the head can show you another path to tread, new ways to explore.

Curiouser and curiouser…

The strangeness of this learning is, the truth, the curiosity that led me here.

In the silence of my imaginings, I changed perspectives. I looked down, and from that new viewpoint, the observer gave me clarity. Perched on a pillar of rapport, I realised, the anchor of the map could still  be kept, the learner feeling safe, secure, whilst the territory itself, creativity, was explored. So, now, it was not about words pouring forth, perfect, whole, unbidden. Now, it was about the principles, what could be understood by them in the structure of NLP.

To be creative seek rapport, and be at ease with self. Focus on that desired outcome, the canvas daubs, the golden words, using the skilled, skilled tools of your sensory acuity. And keep that behavioural flexibility, to change at will, easily allowing for new approaches, and fresh perspectives, made ready just for you.

So, what does the writer know now, that silences that critical judge, that limiter within? It is simple really, not difficult or profound. When 'f'low' alights the spirit, and effort goes. it is the perfect state, the perfect way to be. Unleash that creativity, the storyteller unbound. Just remember, it is the territory that you explore, the map you left behind.

Still finding it difficult, to notice, observe and model?

My friend take note of a very simple word.

Jabberwocky. 

That unborn canvas.
Those words of brilliance.
They are there, waiting, waiting, waiting for your call.
All wondrous. All fresh. All new. All yours.

Being Jiwan…x