What prevents me from being creative? Why do I struggle so mightily-- usually with the voices in my own head-- over naming myself creative?
You may think of me as someone who has her shit together. Corporate job. Amazing marriage. World travel. Oodles of time to create. t may surprise you to learn how much I struggle from day to day and breath to breath...
When I lay all seven Touchstones out, side-by-side, Circle is smack-dab in the center. In an ideal world, we would be able to have our shit figured out before we sit in Circle, and yet we wake up there, messy, in media res.
When I was a girl, all the pockets would simply rip out of my clothes because I was always stuffing them full of rocks. Odd-shaped rocks. Olivine. Quartz. Shiny bits of mica. Pahoehoe lava with ropy, iridescent swirls.
I honestly don't know what I'd do without the friendship of these women, who have comforted me, left me wheezing from laughter, and educated me on the proper way to insert a zipper into a dress.
If I take each Touchstone as a stepping stone, one proceeding easily to the next, Desire leads to Presence, where I finally stand still long enough to hear what stories my being craves to write. Presence, then, gives way to Balance, where I seek a compromise between all the possibilities this moment holds.
At Burning Man in 2017, I found myself reading tarot cards as a part of Circus Combustus. Our camp sat next to the Esplanade, the main inner road that rings the temporary city in the middle of Nevada's Black Rock Desert.
The guidelines of a Circle are spoken and unspoken, practical and esoteric, commonsense and altogether mysterious. I count myself lucky that so many of the women invited into the Enrichment Project arrived with a background in circling.
Baraka's work in the world, her counseling practices that emphasize the power of the Circle, have crystallized much of The Enrichment Project. She has authored several books on creativity and leads a year-long investigation into creativity called Birthing Ourselves into Being.
The practice of burning bay leaves dates back to Greek times, to the best of my research, and it's believed to be one of the herbs burned for the Oracle at Delphi as she entered trances for temple visitors. Doug and I visited Delphi on our honeymoon in 2003, and so this scent is now indelibly overlaid with image of the olive trees that dot Delphi's landscape.