” Re-examine all you have been told
Walt Whitman
in school or church or in any book,
Dismiss whatever insults your own soul;
And your very flesh shall be a great poem… “
When I was in undergrad I studied BFA Sculpture. Maybe you knew that, maybe not. I love art. I love art in every single form. I am certain it was my first real language. It is the only way I have ever been able to make sense of the world, or apply meaning to the things that happen around me. It is my answer to all of life’s hardest questions.
Art and I have a very complicated relationship though. Art has never sugar coated anything when it speaks back to me. It has something to say about everything. Sometimes it is so loud, I would rather burn it than face what it’s giving me. I used to say that art was my personal garbage, splayed out into this jumbled creation. Sometimes I still feel that way. Sometimes art is my very best friend. It is the only thing that knows exactly what I am thinking whenever I create it. It forces me to confront all my problems head on. It is a direct representation of where I am in life at any given time. It’s honest. It’s clear and blunt and rude and hurtful and so authentic.
There was a time when creating authentically was something I had lost sight of. I became so focused on creating something that would tell some big important story. I created these big installation visuals in my head and it felt wrong. I was trying to appeal to a piece of me that was not real. My professor, Bob, sat me down one day. We had life talks often. He is the only person I know who is the direct embodiment of art. Not in his appearance but in the way that he approaches life. He is so authentic and genuinely true to himself, that it would be impossible not to be intimidated by him. His desk was neat but not too neat. Drawing of birds decorated the walls (I later discovered they were drawings his father had done). The walls were a deep blue. His office had a window that looked out onto campus.
So here I am in his office sitting across from him at his desk. He strokes the beard that matches his grey hair and he is just listening. I’m telling him about how I am struggling to create a piece I am proud of. I tell him I don’t know how to appeal to everybody with my work. I don’t know how to make myself better. He leans back in his tee shirt and cargo pants and looks at me from behind his glasses. He says, “Gina, the answer is always simple with art. Stop pretending. The more honest you are with it, the more honest it will be with you”.
Stop pretending. This hit me so hard, I almost fell out of my chair. He was right. I had spent so much of my time pretending. I had spent so much of my life pretending already. I was instantly angered. How could I do this to myself? How the hell was I supposed to walk back out to my studio space and just go about my day creating work when I wasn’t even sure what it meant to not pretend I was good at it?! So I decided I wasn’t going to. I went home that day. Defeated . Sad. Feeling like a phony.
The next time I entered my studio, I refused to let myself think. I just created. I picked up the clay, and I mashed together a bunch of stick and twigs and I just made things. I played with sawdust. I sewed together paper. I added whatever natural fibers and elements I could. I let my hands speak for me. I let my soul take over. I told my brain to rest, and leave it to the rest of the team for the day. And you know what happened?
Nothing. I was still. I was angry. My brain started racing, catching up for lost time. “He was wrong. What the hell am I doing here?”. I went home again. Defeated. Angrier. Super sad.
But I kept going. And I kept letting my soul take over. And I kept asking my brain to step to the side. I created work that said something. I started to create work that allowed me to make meaning of my life. I started to create work that people wanted to know more about. I didn’t tell them. It was for me. I created work that was not intended for the use of others, or to mask some pain I was feeling, or as a way to hide. I created work that communicated with the people who took interest in it. I created work that become about my vulnerability. I stopped worrying about who would see it, and focused on why I was creating it. I explored. I let myself make mistakes and I kept doing it anyway. This time in my life became a time that I cherish. It was Bob Booth who planted a seed about what it meant to be authentic. The rest was a practice I had to maintain every. single. day.
I am sure many of you are familiar with Brene Brown and her theories and writings on vulnerability. She is amazing and if you do not know about her, go and find out about her– you will not regret it. She reports that vulnerability breeds connection which is something human beings require in order to feel a sense of purpose and belonging. What she doesn’t always make clear is how to go about doing this. It’s where I get stuck and I know it is where many others get stuck.
Because vulnerability is not just about going to a mountain and screaming your deepest secrets to the world. If you decide to do that, more power to you, and please let me know. Vulnerability is about creating a safe place to share parts of yourself and your mind even when the rest of the world does not feel so safe. Vulnerability requires so much of us. That is why it is difficult. It asks us to step out on to our front porch naked in the dead of winter. We hate having to be “naked” in front of people and a lot of people hate the cold–so right off the bat this can seem senseless and even a bit foolish. But I want to let you know, that the fear of “nudity” around others due to what people will say is what gives them power. In being vulnerable anyway, we take our power back. When we start doing things to allow for vulnerability we discover multiple things:
We learn what it is like to have relationships based on honesty. We become too tired and frankly lose all interest in being anything other than authentic. We grow confident in our stories. Being vulnerable breed authenticity. Which is really just vulnerability sans intense, stomach wrenching fear.
Being authentic is not something that is done by the flip of a switch. It requires practice. It requires daily decisions to stop hiding pieces of ourselves jut for the sake of making others comfortable. Being authentic requires honesty, even when the honesty is ugly. It asks us to communicate in ways we are not used to communicating. It asks to take masks off, and discuss our scars. It asks us to ask more questions. It asks us to be direct. It asks us to asks for what we want and need.
Authenticity recognizes that we all have something to say. It recognizes that we are all tired. Authenticity is what happens when carrying around the weight of expectations becomes too much.
But what does it actually look like? How does authenticity manifest?
It shines through in going to the grocery store in pajamas knowing full well we will see 30 people or more from high school but going anyway. It shines through when someone tells us they like something and we are brave enough to disagree. Authenticity is being honest, when you are running late, about having slept in. Authenticity is not bending your core values in half to allow for something mediocre to occur. And trust me, if you are bending your values, whatever project you are working on will be mediocre at best. Authenticity is not saying something nice just to say it. It’s meaning what it is you are saying. It’s standing by whatever you feel is part of your biological makeup, and making a deliberate choice to set all else to the side. It comes out in the way we speak, our body language, our communication, how we choose to fill our days, what changes we are pursuing, what our “guilty pleasure movies” are, what our favorite anything is. Authenticity is being real. It’s not always natural. It’s practice. And it is a choice. It sits within you, just waiting for you to decide it is more important than all else. It comes with small, slow practices every day. Using honesty. Showing parts of yourself to others that you might not have previously. Relating to the experiences of others and contributing to real and meaningful conversations. Ask questions. Seeking education. Not just in books. But from others about how they have grown in authenticity.
I’m going to tell you what I have noticed about what happens when you chose to live in authenticity:
Authenticity allows you to stop planning for what you want to be so that you can just be. It allows you at least six more minutes of rest, because you are no longer doing things for the comfort of others. Authenticity can breed a deep sense of satisfaction with where you are in the present. Authenticity allows you to stop worrying so much about where you are going to be, and focus on where you are. Authenticity grounds. It anchors its subjects to a sense of deep, wholehearted realness that is otherwise achievable. There are no lies with authenticity, and therefore no cover ups. Authenticity means you get the ice cream flavor you really wanted instead of what someone else’s favorite is. Authenticity leads to real decisions and real action being made.
The more honest you are with your work and in your daily practice, the more honest your outcome will be. If you shape your future around your current authenticity, it is impossible for the outcome to be anything other than wholly made or derivative of you. When one is able to live life in an authentic way, the mind is suddenly much lighter. Sleep is deeper. Feelings are more intense. Relationships change. You find out who is in your life beyond surface level. Small talk becomes boring. Small talk stops happening at all. You become more aware of how you come off, but you accept it as your truth embodied in your very real and important vessel. You accept a purpose of your own design. Self-nurturing becomes second nature. You remember what really gives you joy. You become your own leader. You realize that the only stories you want to hear are the stories of real, deep, personal transition and meaning. You realize you can sit with yourself as your own company and feel reunited with a good friend. Silence is no longer unbearable but is a welcome guest. You start to see that wrinkle by your eye as a story marker rather than an imperfection. You notice white hairs and rejoice over them rather than try to hide them. You find it harder to lie. You find it easier to know when someone else is lying. You find yourself drawn to people, places and things that are not elaborately decorated and drawn up in ways that don’t reveal who and what they are fundamentally. You start accepting your imperfections. You stop seeing them as imperfections altogether. You accept the imperfections of others.
Pressure becomes lighter. It’s not doing something if you do not want to do it. Time moves slowly when you are authentic. Everything feels new and inspiring. Resentments fade, and gratitude blossoms. Life becomes easier. Everything becomes easier. You can pay more attention to what your body is telling you. You can live a truth that comes from within you rather than the one others place on you. You become an architect for your day to day interactions, decisions, and outcomes. Looking in the mirror becomes like greeting a pal, instead of something you dread. Your actions start to reflect your beliefs and all begins to line up. You can literally feel you heart and soul growing. You can fill your days with more of what you love.
Authenticity is a choice. It is a daily practice. It’s taking time and permission to be in your head for a little longer so you can be the real deal when you come out. It’s bravery. It is not easy. But it is the only way to live a life that means something to you. It’s waking up and showing up, every day, all day for yourself in ways only you can make sense out of. It’s sometimes presenting yourself exactly as you are to the world and doing the very best you know you could do. Authenticity is self-nurturing. It’s kind and gentle. It’s not about taming demons, or hiding or seeking safety. It’s creating a safe place for the demons to recover from all the hiding they have had to do. It’s acknowledging all that you are, and fearlessly showing that to anyone who is lucky to meet you. It is letting the fires that burn in your soul rage free and being fine with that. It’s harnessing that fire and using it to light your darkness. It facilitates deliberate and actionable choices towards the life you truly want.
I leave you with this today:
What are you doing to ensure you choose authenticity each day? How does authenticity manifest for you? What changes have you noticed in your life since being more authentic? What do you need to stop pretending about? How will you be more honest in the world? What would you like to create for yourself? How will you communicate with the world in an authentic way? What is your “art”? What do you say to your truth when it looks back at you?
Warm regards,
Gina
Proceed with Curiosity 