Like many in late 2020, I found myself in virtual spaces learning new things and joined a low-stakes zen doodling program. I sat mindfully making marks on the page when I was ripped from my zen as the facilitator demonstrated a specific technique chasing it with “See? It’s so easy!” 

I had not felt any sense of self-judgment before that moment and no expectations to perform well because I wasn’t performing, I was enjoying making marks on the page. I recognized some sticky feelings encroaching, and I clicked off my video to check in to see what was asking for my attention. When I stumbled into the echos, “It’s so easy!,” and discovered that it was, in fact, not easy for me to make the marks she was making and have them look the way they looked for her. My lizard brain was activated because there I was enjoying the landscape feeling the warmth of the process when a threat jumped out of nowhere! My thoughts went racing “I must be doing it wrong…I don’t belong here. I’m not ready for this kind of stuff yet…” My joy melted like dropped ice cream on hot South Georgia pavement. I stuck a pin in that moment to revisit and explore later, and I got a drink of water and reconnected with MY process as I rejoined the group. 

I finished my doodle by modifying instructions and context in a way that felt right and true for me. Let’s get real though. Even as recent as one year prior, I didn’t have the awareness to even put a name to that shift I felt. I had to learn to listen and check in with myself before I could pick myself up and dust off with a clearer sense of balance. 

Let’s also acknowledge that language matters. When I revisited that pin through my journaling and talking it over with people I trusted, I found that I got tripped up on the language. “Easy” indicated the level of effort or expertise needed to execute the technique. Although it wasn’t rocket science, I had never done or practiced anything like that before plus I was still/am still working through spells of rigid perfectionism. I forgot to stay connected to the process and popped right into an outcome-oriented performance space where my marks needed to look like her marks. Zen bubble, go poof!

Now, I also realized that this work was mine to do. That facilitator was not out to alarm me. I decided that I prefer the word simple in this context. The instructions were simple. I invited myself to consider how I could make it more fun or lower my expectations as I was learning. It was a simple technique that offered plenty of space for further exploration: my thought experiment AND the zen doodling marks.

This memory resurfaced early this morning as I talked to my sister, a talented artist learning new art skills through online demonstrations, and I realized that we all have sensitivities to language as it seeps into our creative pursuits. Maybe we don’t even let ourselves come near something if it involves the word “creative” or “artistic.” Somewhere along the way we picked up data supporting false assumptions that we aren’t creative or somehow lack what it takes to carry that descriptor. 

The fun part is that we get to revise that story. We can look at the words and our definitions, and we can get curious about how things land and ask new questions. Then if it feels right, we can start with a small contextual adjustment today that could open a whole new pathway into a more joyful life.

Are you aware of words that make you turn and run? If you are aware, what is your process for recovery if you have one? If you don’t have one, what might a recovery process or process of inquiry look like for you? Maybe the awareness part is sticky for you? How would it feel to pay attention today to language that you might get stuck on? I do love to hear from you. Drop a line in the comments, send me a private email or book a curiosity call if it feels right.