One key ingredient that can make a project feel daunting to me is doing something unfamiliar/new. My typical method of dealing with daunting projects has been to wait until something magically shifts on its own and then say to myself, “Oh yeah, no wonder I wasn’t doing that before, X, Y or Z was getting in the way.”

In the spirit of being a little more proactive when I am stuck and of being gentle with myself before instead of only after the fact, I decided to play with the idea of how to address the unfamiliarity/newness aspect of projects. My idea is to schedule a first date with any new project. Like on your first date, you don’t go for dinner and a movie and hot hot lovin’ (well, not on most of the first dates I went on at least, although I expect it depends how you met the person).

Dating your projects

My first date recipe was usually to meet during the daytime, somewhere public, for something like coffee, an activity easily brought to a close in case no spark occurred, so the exit could be quick and painless (finished my beverage, time to go!).

Here are some other things I would do on a first date that might help new/unfamiliar projects go more smoothly:

• Make sure I’m at the top of my game or at least have my game face on. When I am starting a new project, I get myself mentally psyched up to feel like I am at my most competent. Even doing things like taking a shower and getting dressed and brushing my teeth before I start seem like they would do me just as well for unfamiliar projects as they would for dating.
• Don’t expect too much. First dates are for figuring out whether or not you like someone. I often make up my mind that I will do a project before I know whether I will actually enjoy doing it or not. Maybe I could try toning down my expectations about how good of a fit any given activity will be for me.
• Get to know the other player. I tend to be impatient to start doing things once I get a mind to do them. Slowing down and gradually learning a new activity isn’t my usual habit– I want to dive into the deep end and fly before I walk. I could maybe benefit from a longer get-to-know-you period with certain activities.
• Give myself a break. This piece I figured out a while ago. Dating was tiring—always being on, putting my best foot forward. Sometimes I would just want to stay home in my jammies and eat ice cream and watch chick flicks, ie, do something familiar and easy where I didn’t have to stretch at all. Mixing in easy/familiar activities, ones I’m already good at, can be a way to keep up my energy for doing new things. The comfort that comes from doing an activity I’ve already mastered is a gift I can give myself any time.

How would you like dating your projects? Do you have other ways to make starting the process easier?

Part 1:

Sarah Tieck, guest blogger

My Toyota Corolla’s fuel gauge says there is a quarter tank of gas left. Noticing that, I added a stop at the gas station to my list of errands. Simple as that. There was no agonizing about if I should stop for gas or where. No cursing that I have to monitor my car’s fuel and maintenance needs. No weeping because my tank has gotten low. There is no question. I will stop and refuel — if I don’t, in time the car won’t work.

Lately I’ve been running on fumes. No, I don’t have a magical gauge, but I knew. All I needed to do was look around. There were pizza and take-out boxes in the garbage can, dishes in the sink, four timesheets where I’d logged into work well after my official start time, and a general feeling of being stuck with no clear steps forward on several projects.

As a creative person who has been steadily working and meeting deadlines, but rarely taking time to replenish and refuel after these journeys, my tank is low low low. And, I’m having to stop more often to refuel — sort of like those times when you only fill up partially at the gas station. In order to create, to do good work, and to savor my life, I’m having to learn how to fuel up. Interesting that the theme I’ve chosen for this year is nourish.

Celebration is a form of nourishment. Many people wait for completion to do this — and even then, barely stop to acknowledge what has been completed and put away supplies and papers. Little do we realize that little celebrations — nourishment — along the way are important fuel to keeping moving with big goals … sort of like fueling your car on a long trip.

To refuel by celebrating, you don’t need to do anything huge. You simply need to find a way to pause and take some time for an experience that will strengthen and energize you. That gives you ideas and images to draw from and fuel your work. It honors what you’ve done. Those important baby steps.

So, when you feel like you could keep going … stopping to play, to workout, to connect, to savor can all be forms of nourishment that will add  fuel to your tank. Things like workouts and fun offer a big boost for a goal — they create movement, energy, and excitement. And, that transfers. That candy bar and diet soda? As temporary as a jump for a dead battery.

Last week, I nourished a writing deadline with a bike ride and some geocaching with my husband. We played in the woods and the next day, I finished the book I was writing. When I take time to fill myself up like this — even when it seems counterintuitive — the things I want (and need) to do are easier! That weekend, I spent some time relaxing on the couch, saw Letters to Juliet, had an evening out with some friends who make me smile. You know what? Even though I rested and filled up first, the dishes and vacuuming and errands got done. And, that Monday morning, I returned to work with a tank full of fuel — as well as the fuel of my vision of what I want to create — to help me move forward.

Part 2:

Sarah DeWeerdt, Guest blogger

When Sarah likened needing to stop and replenish one’s energy to filling up the gas tank of a car, my immediate impulse was to wish I were a Prius. Imagine: speeding down the road in productive, virtuous near-silence, able to travel twice as far between fill-ups as all those other jalopies.

But the truth is, if I were a Prius, I’d just wish I were a hydrogen fuel cell vehicle. And if I were a hydrogen fuel cell vehicle, I’d wish I were…some kind of zero-emissions flying car thingy that hasn’t even been invented yet.

I’m hardly ever satisfied with the distance I’ve traveled. But maybe slowing down and refueling is actually part of the excitement. I mean, if I didn’t have to stop for a fill-up, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to notice the precise latitude where gas station convenience stores stop selling Dr. Pepper and start selling Mr. Pibb. I wouldn’t get to chuckle over those crazy souvenir snow globes filled with dinosaur teeth. I’d miss seeing, while paying for my gas, that family walk into the store straight from the pages of a Flannery O’Connor short story.

For me, this need to go faster and farther without stopping, ignoring the lurid red “E” on the dashboard, doesn’t just pose a problem when I’m trying to clear clutter and organize—it’s actually the source of my clutter. That is, there are so many interesting and amazing things in the world that I’m tempted to hold on to every interesting newspaper clipping, each scrap of vintage lace, out of the conviction that I’ll do something with it someday.

But I won’t. Because the body is a vehicle that craves rest, and one that can only travel so far. That’s been one of the most surprising and unsettling lessons of Jen’s class so far: confronting my clutter is, in effect, confronting my own mortality.

That epiphany isn’t a wholly gloomy one, though. With practice, I’m starting to recognize the difference between things that are merely interesting and things that make my brain light up with neurons firing in a thousand directions. (I swear it’s a literal scalp-tingling sensation.) I’m letting go of the former category so that I’ll have more attention for the latter. So that next time I pull off the highway into that gas station, I’ll be able to chuckle at that snow globe and leave it on the shelf, and fix the precise image of that Southern gothic family in my mind, because they are going to make one hell of a poem or painting later. Just you wait and see.

Sarah Tieck has authored more than 36 nonfiction books for children and teaches writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. Her articles and essays appear regularly in home and garden magazines, lifestyle magazines, and major daily newspapers such as the Star Tribune and the Chicago Tribune. Contact her at her Web site, www.sarahtieck.com.

Sarah DeWeerdt is a freelance writer and editor in Seattle, Washington. Read her science writing via sarahdeweerdt.blogspot.com and her recipes at smalltastes.blogspot.com.

Can you relate? Share your thoughts in the comments section below!

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Sometimes it’s not the clutter.

Sometimes it’s what we think that causes the most trouble.

Imagine sitting down at your computer to check your email and, when you open the inbox, the number total unopened emails is in the 4-digits.

You look at that number glowing on your screen and quietly think to yourelf,

“I’m so behind. I’m never going to catch up.”

That little comment to yourself is so quiet that you hardly even notice it. Even if you do, it’s so quick, it barely registers before you’re on to the next thing.

Looking deeper

The effect that thought has on you is immense. Deep in your brain, that thought triggers a response to a threat. Your body begins to prepare for battle or flight – skin begins to sweat, heart rate increases, adrenaline is released to give you the power to run.

Most of the time, you have no idea it’s even happening. Your brain is on auto-pilot.

The problem is that you can’t put this response to good use. You can’t punch your inbox’s lights out. And, faced with 1000 emails, you probably won’t take flight and run screaming down the hall. All the body triggers are out of alignment with the actual stimulus.

Overload

Worst of all, if you’re like a lot of stressed-out, busy people, you’re constantly thinking these kinds of thoughts:

I’m so behind.
I should have this done by now.
I promised I’d have this back to her.
My client is showing up any minute.
I’m never going to get caught up.
I’ll never break through.
I forgot that AGAIN!?
I should be doing way more than I am.

Say these kinds of things to yourself enough times and you’ll feel like you’re always running and always fighting for some peace.

Case in point

If you’ve ever had the illusion that Jen Hofmann has it all figured out, think again. A couple of months ago I started having heart fluttering and chest pain – accompanied by pretty awful digestive problems. I had no idea what was going on and I was really scared.

Interestingly, right before the symptoms started, I had been thinking about how January was (in my mind) “a wash” and I kept telling myself, “I wasted a whole month. I should have been doing more to grow my business.”

I was talking myself into a mental frenzy – for what? January was fine.

When the symptoms started, I failed to see what a compassionate physician did: I was stressed to the point of anxiety. All because of my thoughts.

Stress isn’t a baseline state

When it comes to surviving en encounter with an angry mastodon, stress is a lifesaver. But when your opponent is your inbox or your kitchen counter or the vacuum cleaner, that level of stress is out of alignment. We all do it, but it really does us harm. Ask any cardiac expert.

Thoughts are an inside job

Lots of people jump to the conclusion that if the inbox is causing you stress, the solution is to clean it out. I say, woah there. Not so fast.

Instead, I invite you on a journey of far greater subtlety:

1. Practice noticing your thoughts.

Like a lot of people, if you can’t see something, it doesn’t exist. Inspired Spouse suggested yesterday that I start keeping a list of the thoughts that come up for me. What a fabulous idea. I’m keeping a running list for the next week, just to see what’s there.

Neutrally observing your beliefs is freeing in a way that a desperately clean desk isn’t.

2. See your thoughts as visitors, not guests.

Instead of opening the door and willy-nilly letting in any thought, ask yourself if you want what they’re selling.

Just because a Girl Scout rings the bell, doesn’t mean she can move into the guest room. Just because you think you’re behind, doesn’t mean that belief needs to move in and run your life.

When you start seeing your thoughts as visitors, you’re actively loosening the hold they have on your spirit – not to mention your autonomic nervous system. You get to decide what stays and what goes – which is empowering.

3. Gently start sending your thoughts away.

In other words, when you notice a thought, don’t cause more damage by telling yourself, “Dummy! Why are you thinking that again?”

Be gentle.

Notice if there are thoughts you want to release because they’re not really true. If you’re feeling behind, behind compared to what? What if it were okay to be exactly where you are right now, even if it’s not where you wanted to be?

The key is to begin to cultivate gentleness toward yourself.

The thoughts inside your head are sometimes harsh and cruel – and you can’t thrive in an environment like that. When you put your spirit in front of the line, the thoughts may still come up but they won’t run your life. It might be a long journey to get to that place, but just think of the possibilities.

Thoughts? Yeah, buts? Me toos?

Today, I’m inviting smARTists and regular readers to share:

What’s one tweak you’d like to experiment with that would help you feel more focused or organized?

And if you’re in the smARTist program this week, you’re also welcome to share something from my presentation that you’re planning to try out.

Why are you asking this?

It is so powerful to state an intention out loud and to have respectful, encouraging witnesses. By creating a place to witness your tweaky intention, you have a better chance of making it happen.

In order to drive a nail into a board, there’s the obvious downswing that pushes in the nail. Equally important is the back swing in which you prepare for the next push.

If you’re driving a car, pressing the accelerator is only half of the “getting there” equation. You also have to decelerate at the appropriate time, or your car will be in a world of hurt.

To accomplish just about anything, what’s needed is a balance between push and release.

Like most of the creative people I know, I have a frustrating tendency to focus on the push. In fact, as I write this, I’m in the process of trying to convince myself that I don’t want release at all (even though I need it). Instead, I should actually be pushing harder. Frustrating.

Push is not a resting state

When you’re in a period of intense creating, you lose the ability to contrast it with your resting state. The creative state begins to feel like normal, the baseline, when it isn’t.

The trouble is, that pushing harder and forcing work out of ourselves turns off the creative flow. Inspiration goes from a gushing river to a trickle to a dry river bed.

Pausing is vital to the creative process. Taking a break, releasing the pressure, is what fills us back up again. Once we’re replenished, you can create again without struggle.

But it’s hard.

If you live in the States, you’re probably unaware of how much drive is a part of our culture. Productivity. Proving our worth. It’s a silent message, but ever-present and ingrained.

Because of this, slowing down to replenish is counter-culture. Pausing is like swimming against a powerful stream. I often find myself feeling guilty and apologizing for taking time to nourish my spirit. Sometimes I just ignore my need to stop because it’s so hard to claim it.

Lately, I’ve been on an earnest search to discover what replenishes me. Recently, I was surprised to find that I was trying to concoct an “inspiration pill” which would allow me to quickly find my center and begin working again.

It’s laughable, isn’t it? Hurry up and slow down! In truth, pausing takes as long as it needs to and, by nature, can’t be hurried.

What I do to find inspiration

Interestingly, the word “inspire” means to breathe in. So oxygen is a good start. I also like to breathe in quiet – whether that comes from actual silence or my noise-canceling headphones. Removing sound helps me hear the important messages that come from inside.

In my heart of hearts, the thing that nourishes me most is singing old hymns from my days as a music minister. It’s been years since I sang at Mass on Sundays, but I get out my guitar and a big binder of sheet music and play until my fingertips are throbbing.

Something about the lyrics reminds me that I’m just a tiny star in the human constellation… and this is a good thing. These hymns remind me that it’s God/Universe who’s making the stars turn, not me. That it’s safe to let go and trust. I don’t have to control everything (even though my ego wants to).

After a session like this, I have happy tears and a deep feeling of release. Suddenly there’s room in my life again for all the things I love. Things come back into balance again.

It took me a long time to figure out that this is what works for me. And it will probably take the rest of my life to find ways to not resist doing it. I’m okay with that. Like everything in life, it’s a process, not a destination.

What works for you? How do you pause and replenish?