For No Good Reason
By Erin Joosse
The first thing I ever wanted to be when I was a child was an author. I remember creating stories wherever I was - if I didn’t have pencil and paper, I would craft them in my own mind to be written down later. I was one of those kids that wanted to spend more time alone than with others, and was rarely lonely when I had books, paper, pens.
As I got older, I explored other forms of creative practice – mainly through theater and dance. As I pursued my bachelor's degree in modern dance, I especially loved improvisation and choreography. I didn’t want to follow someone else’s rule, I wanted to make up my own, create my own movements and structures. I loved the process of creating things that had never existed before. I loved the experience of creating something from nothing.
I have always felt like creative practice and spiritual practice go hand in hand. Creative practice offers us a space to play, the chance to express ourselves in new ways. It can be a doorway into deeper self-awareness, and expression of how we process what’s happening in the world around us.
Children move easily into the realms of creative play – for most, it is natural, intuitive, easy, and playful. I remember my daughter when she was little, elbow deep in paint, a full body exploration of the sensory pleasure of finger painting.
Most of us adults feel that that state of natural creativity is elusive, long ago forgotten, squashed out of us.
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Sometime in my early forties - it felt like overnight, but I know it was a sneaky and slow decade and a half - business ownership, being a mom and a partner and a “householder” had become the focus of life. Before I knew it, it had been more than 10 years since I had “created” anything (I know, I created 2 humans, a business, a home, a marriage, no small things). I really mean I hadn’t created something just for me. For no good reason. For the joy of it, like my writing as a child, like the dances I made in my passionate, creative and generative college years.
I tried to bring creative practice back into my days, little by little. For a bit, I worked with an artist friend - collaging, playing with paint, exploring visual mediums in ways I never had before. I started writing again – writing daily in my journal and working to tie threads of writing together into a book (still in process).
These days, my creative practice centers around writing in as easy, nonjudgmental way as I can. From that place - not trying to get it right, not following any specified “rules,” writing seems to be where I feel most at ease, where I find the most presence and flow. It is a practice of awareness. It is being mindful with the act of creating something from nothing. A state of being fully present to what is going on inside and outside of myself. The anchor of my attention is the pen on the paper, it is the flow of the unexpected words across the page.
Writing as mindful practice can be a practice of giving permission to explore anything, to express anything, permission to play, permission to try something new, permission to make mistakes and try again. Permission to be slow in exploration of something. Permission to be curious. Permission to do something for no good reason. Not because it’s going to make us a better person, parent, friend, child, sibling, worker. Not because it’s going to make us more successful, or more spiritual, or feel better or fix our mental health. It’s permission to simply be curious and present.
You might think that you are not creative. You might think you have to be an artist to find that state of presence and flow through writing.
“You don’t have to be an artist or a writer to know yourself as a creative person. All you need is space and permission to explore something new.”
In mindful writing practice, the aim is not to create a finished, perfectly edited final product. The practice is the process itself. It is the practice of approaching writing in a gentle, self-compassionate, and kindhearted way. We invite ourselves to let go of self-judgment and self-criticism. We do our best to let go of editing ourselves or trying to get it right. We invite a letting go of our perfectionism. What can open in us from that space of non-judgmental curiosity is something authentic and true. We might surprise ourselves with insight, with seeing things clearly. We might simply open to a sense of spaciousness, groundedness, open hearted presence.
And then we might feel the play and ease we might remember from when we were un-self-consciously creating something as a child.
For no good reason. Simply because it brings us joy.
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I invite you to explore writing as mindful practice with me in my upcoming 6 week course at Adosa Wellness!
In this course, you will:
explore adaptable body-based practices - including gentle yoga and other movement
find ease in sensory focused meditation
learn how to "brain dump" to create a sense of mental quiet, openness and spacious creativity
be guided on how to write from your center and without judgment
create a sense of home, wherever you are
We will meet weekly for a guided practice in community, and you will also have access to special on demand content and (low pressure) practices to take home with you. I hope to get to explore the simple joy of mindful writing practice with you. Learn more here.
Erin Joosse is leading a 6-week online course this Fall