Rituals of authenticity

My new book project is about the inclusion of ritual iin creativity.

At times it feels as if I am rehearsing previous arguments on the importance of letting creativity take its course in our lives.  At other times though, it feels as if something 'magical' is going to happen.

Today I am at a cafe, writing this, and thinking how I need certain rituals to inspire my creativity.  This is not my idea.  The choreographer Tharp (2006) talks about morning rituals of waking up, taking a taxi and arriving at a studio, warming up and then letting practice take over.  

My rituals of writing are now becoming both routinely predictable and unique.  I sometimes wake up with the urge to write something (like today).  I perform my ritual of arriving at the cafe, setting the computer up, starting to sip an espresso and then opening a document or two.  Then the brain takes over.  I want to write something that lingers in the mind in abstract form.  I want to put it there, make sure that it links somehow with what I wrote before.  I stop.  I go for a walk or sit on a bench.  Tomorrow or the day after I know I will change a bit of this routine.  Maybe I still do not see myself as pursuing my own authenticity.  

My drawing is taking a similar path.  Arriving at a studio, listening to the teacher, and then wanting to put something on paper.  Doing so, correcting, and then perfecting. Experiencing anxiety when not seeing at least some clear, understandable or basic form or written ideas.  Deleting.  Moving.  Re-drawing (rewriting).  Forgetting to breathe.  Starting to think I am a failure.  Stopping and breathing.  

I think the path goes back to my old days of software coding...long sitting and typing hours, not wanting to give up (there was peer pressure and the belief I was part of an engineering elite). Short bouts of sleeping.  Compiling.  Running.  Detecting bugs.  Commenting with peers.  Starting again (asking myself: what is the purpose of this piece of code?).  Seeing how finally a piece did (not) work.  Moving on.  The life clock accumulates miles, as my car.  

Perhaps these activities and thoughts are also unique.  We as creative individuals tend to think that what makes us authentic is the final product, rather than the process we go through.  We adopt certain patterns or routines.  Mixed with thoughts or beliefs about ourselves, we carry on.  The rest of life disappears from the view of time.  

And we become so used to see our rituals as 'normal'. 

 

The return of coffee mornings

 So here I am again in one of my favourite cafes.  

Sitting, typing, listening to what goes on.  Trying to fight the desire to write the right sentences or paragraphs for a new book project.  

Many people including me are now practising the language of 'coffeeing'.  We order exciting if not exotic things.  And we do it in a louder voice.  

It is inevitable not to draw comparisons between how we used to come here.  Before the world pandemic, myself I rushed to type things that were already on my notes.  I could spend hours here.  I felt there was not much outside I wanted to do.  

Today, I am longing to finish this, to walk around, to breathe, or maybe sit outside and type in a more relaxed manner.  

People are louder, things are flourishing again, and so am I.  

The inertia that we do not need

Last few weeks, many discussions about what is to be the new normal, in management education and elsewhere.

There is no final answer really, but we all take part in these discussions, maybe out of fear of not being listened to in the run to making decisions.

The inertia that we do not need is a desire to cling to certain assumptions and ways of doing things that we fear losing, all in a rush.  In management education, this includes keeping control of students and classrooms, now via sophisticated systems to monitor attendance and to ensure that whoever does not do what they are supposed to do is noticed.

Elsewhere we still want our children to attend school, to be active and part of sports or arts activities.  We cannot see any other way to keep them learning and socialising.  The inertia here is to cling to old routines, those that allowed parents to get to work and have some respite.  There is also inertia not to cross boundaries.  We all know what home schooling has meant.  Many of us do not want to go back to it again.

And we still keep some rituals that we have inherited during last year.  Some remote working, exercise, small socialising (in my case), online shopping. Better sleep, or at least better attempts.    These gives us a sense of security, much needed in the face of new and unknown uncertainties.  

In all of this, the question still remains:  What inertia do we still need?  What don't we?    

Our moral compasses are changing.  What used to be our automatic reactions about the right thing to do could become now a moral dilemma.  Should we go to work to our offices?  Should we go out?  Could we sustain online interactions as substitutes of offline ones?  For how long? 

We still need some inertia to keep things going, but it would be important to regard it as temporary.  And the same could be said about change.  

Technologies have given us possibilities to keep things going, but this does not mean that either those things are right in their own way, or that we need to change them completely.  

My take for now about inertia?  If it starts to feel too heavy, we might need to change it.