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The first time I did The Artist's Way was at the end of state-wide lockdowns, as 2021 came to a close. My friend had invited me to read the book with a group of other women of colour - one chapter out loud each week. Week after week, I encountered myself in the pages, in the group of women reflecting their experiences of uncovering their voice, artistry, pleasure and creative practice. When we reached the chapter on shame, I finally admitted in my morning pages one day that I wanted to... also ... write?? I wrote secret blogs in my teens and twenties. But writing as a full blown adult? I felt the burning sensation of shame as I named this honest desire in the privacy of my journal. Years and years of convincing myself that I was not a 'writer', how could I possibly measure up to writers who can actually write, I don't even write write, wait what does it even mean, what would I even write about, why yes I journal but everyone journals?? 𓇢𓆸 The fixation on identity over practice, outcome over process, has gotten us caught in the concept of ourselves before we give ourselves space to turn up, play and experiment, on repeat. Where we over-value the highest of standards before we have even attempted. Where we over-emphasise the outcome before we even begin. Where we over-prioritise the thinking over the doing. The drama of our internal chaos gets louder. We quickly consume what someone else has created first to soothe the pain of our blocked dams, lumps in our throat. Creativity carves new neural pathways to new experiences of ourselves. 𓇢𓆸 After the moment of uncovering and naming the shame out loud, it took me two years before the Venus retrograde in Leo arrived in 2023, when I decided to commit to writing for 40 days straight on a private Instagram account. I wanted to sense into what my voice in public sounded like, with only a few readers as witnesses. The captions were short. But each day, my words brought me closer to the next layer of creation I was exploring. I was still working full time in my last job. Even when it was almost midnight and I was tired, I would lie in bed and write something. The satisfaction of moving through this threshold was momentous: a sprout I was nurturing, blossoming now. I created a time-space-bound container for myself where I could simply show up and create, a 40 day ritual under the auspice of Venus. There was no particular theme, simply a practice in writing what was emergent and alive for me. Often observations from my day, with the occasional poem, other days memories of times past resurfacing, accompanied by photographs I'd made over the years. When Venus went direct, the practice tapered off. But the writing practice I devoted myself to during that period left a deep embodied imprint. I didn't 'discover' my voice. I was getting used to expressing myself in a new way, in a new space, allowing a part of me ripple out into the field. 𓇢𓆸 A devotion to a tiny seed of desire to create anew, even if i didn't know what it 'meant' then. Gathering the courage to write meant that I started my business the following year with a stronger sense of my voice. I was used to expressing myself in creative mediums that did not require me to voice my innermost feelings out loud - photography, dance, fashion. Yet what I really wanted to write required a new risk, a specific layer of emotional vulnerability that my Scorpio ass was terrified of showing beyond the safety of my trusted circle. I wanted to be known but I didn't want to be perceived. Um hello incoming Venus in Scorpio is that you?? The following Venus retrograde that took place, in Aries/Pisces last March/April, I wrote my first Substack piece. 𓇢𓆸 As of yesterday, Venus is officially in her pre-retrograde shadow period. This upcoming Venus retrograde in Scorpio/Libra, I want to create alongside you. With my dear friend Ami, we are co-facilitating Devoted to Desire, a three month immersive container to hold space for the complexities of our creative process as Venus goes retrograde, as we continue living with the complications of being human in relationship to other humans, to Earth and Sky, to our creativity. To move with and through the gnarli-ness and beauty of being human in this time of polycrisis, through creating what only we can. In Devoted to Desire, we will make space for inspiration to arrive, fortify habits to taking actions that stretch us, cultivate our relationship to plants as ritual anchors, and explore somatic resources to support our nervous systems to meet fears that will inevitably arise as we make room to create.
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