my artist's prayer
notes from the artists way tasks i've been procrastinating.
i started the artist’s way around april because i was (and still am) unemployed so i figured there would be no better time than the present to lock in on some shit i actually cared about instead of writing cover letters all day and binge-watching shows from 2009. but two things can coexist so i’m currently on nikita.
needless to say, i have weeks where i do my morning pages daily, read the chapter on monday and do the exercises tuesday-friday like clockwork. then there are other weeks i act like the book doesn’t exist. last week was one of the weeks. today is one of those mondays. so here we are.
week 4: recovering a sense of integrity
this chapter was mainly about having a lot of self-honesty to make lasting changes. i think what stuck out to me is the emphasis on the way we hold onto some things that we know should be non-negotiables but don’t take ourselves seriously enough to actually let go of. for me, this is sometimes getting stuck in a pain or comfort i know and can easily explain. i can put into words that i’ve lost motivation because the job hunt is depressing and every time i get a rejection letter i get stuck in a freeze mode that can be kind of paralyzing. which is true. but not the whole truth.
what i would like to say is that something about this job hunt has been making me entertain the thought of spending less time looking for jobs and more time nurturing the dream i’ve been sitting on for years, which is writing. it’s easy to say i need the job so i can fund the dream. but again, not the whole truth. the hard truth is, right now, my dream doesn’t need funding, she needs fuel. right now, she needs me to show up without the expectation of where she should or shouldn’t be. and that’s the truth that keeps me up at night wondering why i’m so afraid to invest my own energy into myself.
it’s easy to put time, thought and effort into a job hunt. that’s explainable. that’s digestible. and the lack of progress can be blamed on the market and the president, not my incompetence. i can defend that to those that wonder if i’m just sitting on my ass, sulking all day. but to say i spent hours working on an article to post on a publication with 60 subscribers, well that just sounds silly and irresponsible. to say that instead of a job application i was working on a case study for the last three hours just sounds like a waste of time. this is the conversation i have with myself to justify my stagnancy. i mask my fear as a lack of motivation. it’s not that i don’t want to, i just don’t think i can.
that’s what this chapter challenged me to look at more closely. also why it took me two weeks to finish it. because in the grand scheme, what am i afraid of? not creating is not getting me results so why am i more worried about the result of my creation vs. the fulfillment i receive from it? when did i stop creating for myself and why did i complicate things so much?
task 1: describe myself at 80
it’s funny, i was just thinking about this when i was writing my morning pages. imagining myself with grandchildren who would only know this current version of me through stories and imagination. this would be the version of my story i tell before the breakthrough. the architect of the alchemy. i wonder how this part of my story will be felt through imagination and not experience. at 80 years old, i hope to be happily married or single, 3-4 kids, as many grandkids as those kids desire, a few godchildren, no more than 3, an archive of writing that i loved and shared with the world, jazz albums playing in the background of my home sitting on a large piece of land in the outskirts of the South or across the country with a small farm and the garden my grandmother could never quite get running. after 50, i published a book about someone's story. my own, my great-grandmothers, my grandmothers, my mothers, or all of the above. i read poetry at coffee shops and jazz cafe’s. i recorded another spoken word album with a fire saxophonist. i was in love with somebody i thought was beautiful. i traveled some more, probably to jamaica and bali a few times a year. i bought my home on a large piece of land after sending my kids off to college and leaving our family home to them. i built a library in my house of all the books i’d read and written over the years. i possibly became a teacher at some point or taught classes at colleges. maybe i kept creative directing for a while and had a small team. i learned to bake my mom’s sweet potato pie and passed it on to my children and their children. i created my own family recipes and traditions. i celebrated the holidays back at my family home. we still opened our gifts at 12am on the dot christmas day. we brought back going to church on christmas morning and new years eve. i taught my children and grandchildren how to pray. my children found a spiritual practice they loved that fulfilled their faith. i received my Ocha and crowned. i continued to feed my pots and teach my first couple godbabies. i went on walks by the river and prayed with each step i took. i gave back to my community and continued on long after. i had a small, sweet life with rich memories to tell over and over again.
task 2: a letter to 20-year-old Alysa, from 80-year-old Alysa
it’s okay that you don’t know how just yet. you don’t know when. part of you may not even know what. but, what’s important is that you know why. it’s important that in all that you do, you remember why. never let an opportunity take up space in your life that doesn’t reflect your why, even in the smallest ways. be it love, money, friendship, sex. does this reflect the kind of person you prayed to be? does it make you happy? does it answer a prayer you’ve said aloud or in the shadows? it’s okay if you need to rest your shoulders and take your time. i’m not going anywhere. i wish you would give yourself more space and grace to trust that. more room to just be. not become but be. when the dust settles and the questions are answered, i don’t want you to look around and not know where you are. i don’t want you to wake up from the motions of trying and proving and planning just to realize you’re lost in a world that doesn’t belong to you. our world is still before it sings. we value the small things, intimate things, mundane things. we enjoy the sunset the way we did as a child. we enjoy when the time changes and mornings are dark and dewy. don’t forget that. your why is not how much you’ll make. your why isn’t how many people you’ll impact. your why is your commitment to living a life built by your own hands. your why is keeping your promise to us. to the us that never knew it was possible for joy to find us like this. for the us that wanted to be saved but could never find arms outside of our own. your why is keeping your promise to the pieces of our hearts that needed to see us return home. to let us know that you didn’t forget. don’t get lost in the noise. the people are not your legacy. your ambition is not your destiny. your purpose is to be the prayer that has been said over your life since the first words of your bloodline were uttered. that person will shake the world in ways you could never imagine. but you can’t do it backwards. you must be well first. you must know and believe why, first. take your time. fall in love with your heart. when you move from the inside out, everything meant to find you will fall into place. i love you.
task 3: write my artist’s prayer
i pray that you never lose your ability to dream.
in every small step forward, leap into new timeline or revisit to old stories,
i pray you never lose your ability to dream.
when it comes true in the small ways.
when it stops you in your tracks, in awe of all you’ve created.
when you see the little you in the little person who tells you it was your words that inspired her to dream alongside you,
i pray you’re always reminded to keep dreaming.
i pray you never forget why you started.
not for accolades.
not for recognition.
not for ambition.
but for you.
before you had the pressure to create for a living,
you had the passion to create for you.
i pray you never forget that your art was your lifeline.
even when you no longer need to be revived.
even when joy shows up beyond the pen and through the sun on your face and the water beneath your feet and the Spirit in your words.
i pray you never forget that your art was your Source.
when the questions had no answers.
when the tears had nowhere else to fall.
i pray you always remember who you did it for.
i wrote this prayer today and did the first couple exercises two weeks ago. reading them back, it’s amazing to see how my heart always knows where to go. when i take the time to step outside of the expectations and timelines, i’m always left with the stillness of my words. the consistency. the sincerity. the story then is the same story now. she’s changed languages, started over, learned new writing styles, had new experiences, but the plot has of the movie has never changed. the direction hasn’t shifted. i’m grateful for that. writing is a beautiful place to be grounded in.
that’s all for now.
til next time,
from my heart to yours.
I loved reading this! What a gorgeous devotion — especially the letter to yourself. Maybe this is my 50th sign to go ahead and pick The Artist’s Way back up (especially since the world, and unemployed-life, is hitting so heavy). 😂🤎