Show Up Honestly (When It's Time)

Why a little creative privacy goes a long way

To my creative friend,

There’s an adage that floats around creative circles that goes something like this:

"We know the truth will set us free. But first, it will piss you off.”

I remember first hearing these words from a theater teacher. After a few attempts at a scene, the other students and I gathered in a circle. She knelt down, looked us square in the eye, and spoke these words. I instantly understood what she meant.

Working in a creative practice requires rigorous honesty. Even after hundreds of repetitions, we have to return to the basic question: “what’s true right now, in this moment?”

This demand for honesty and truth-telling is at the heart of creative work. And art has its power when we, who see the heart of things, take a risk. We show up in the world to offer what we see, feel, and perceive. We vibrate with authentic vulnerability, and it’s felt in our work.

This is what makes your creative practice so important. It is a vein of gold in reality that you can follow until you see where to dig. When you show up to your practice, you patiently excavate, pulling stone and clod. You keep going until, suddenly, reality itself stuns you. You see the heart of things and the heart of yourself.

It’s a thrill to find it. In that moment, you feel a lightness and ease. You have pulled the rubble out and feel fresh and new. The next step, then, is to share the wealth. You turn towards the rest of us, generously offering what you have found.

Your riches become shared medicine. The art you make helps the world become a little brighter because you have refracted reality in the ways only you can. But you also have offered your heart to all of us, stitching our humanity together with one more thread.

You’ve also learned that this digging and offering can damage you. Sometimes we move too quickly. We feel a false sense of urgency, that others are waiting for us. We need to show up with something now.

We become addicted to this feeling. We like being seen, so we start to leave the mines with only fool’s gold. It has the luster of truth, but it’s just a dull rock. There’s no inner vibrancy, no hidden shimmer. So we head back in, only to bring up another.

It feels good to share. We want the kindness of others: their admiration and gratitude. But somewhere along the way, we forget that our creative practice must be our treasure first. We have to return to the thrill of the first find—that moment where we ask ourselves “should I give this treasure away, or keep it hidden for myself?”

Do you remember that impulse? When you were young you would tumble through the world, finding and keeping secrets. You would bring some of those treasures to your friends, but some you would keep hidden. Maybe you would make a map or an altar, so you could find it again. The thought of something hidden, that only you knew, was thrilling. Collecting these secrets was a way to find and feel more of the world.

Today you are going to make something new. In your creative practice, you are going to feel your way along until a glimmer catches your eye. When you get the glint, take a breath. Feel the magic of that moment—you are the first, and the only, to find this.

As you excavate and explore, remember that this gift has found its way to you to heal you. It will feel deeply personal because it is touching part of your heart. And of course, you will want to run and tell others. You may want others to see and feel what you felt. Or maybe you want others to validate what you already know to be true.

Whatever the case, I’d like you to stay put a little longer. Keep your treasure hidden so you can return to it a little later. Recover the thrill of having a few secrets when so many of us broadcast every thought and feeling. Keep those gifts close, because they were given to you to help you. Let them be for you.

Then, when it’s time, share them with the rest of us. Bring your glowing treasure to the rest of us, so we can see what you’ve found and how its light has made its way into you.

With love,
Chad

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