A Happy Creative Life is about the Adventure

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Abstract

heir dad snarling ‘its too complicated — I’ll put it together”. He and his brothers, sat deliberating construction plans for hours. Whilst I’m left comforting screaming children. If they argued, their father would respond with unnecessary punishment. Pushing them aside again.The truth is he never bought those gifts for the children. They were gifts intended for himself because the ‘man’ never grew up! It was an act designed to inflate his ego and take control. My children’s Christmas measured by the uncontrollable factor of their father’s bad attitude.After a few years of the same results, he still not seeing what an ass he was. I knew his attitude was never going to change. So I reframed the outcome for the children. Their father always leaving wrapping to me — I took my opportunity. I began wrapping ‘ pass- the- parcel’ style. Gathering stacking boxes and other little gifts to go in-between. Crayons, pens, scissors, stickers, tape. Any suitably aged crafting gear packed in-between the boxes.The final layer was fuel for inspiration. Taking the form of an age-appropriate picture book. Each year a different adventure to explore. The subjects of those books — camping, knights, aliens — it didn’t matter. My children already knew what to do.Whilst dad was busy arguing with his brothers over the construction of his gift. My children were busy with their creations.The living room soon full of cardboard playhouses. Artistically decorated with all their new crafting gear. They made castles, spaceships, jungle gyms. The only limiting factor was their imagination. Those cardboard box creations kept the kids entertained for th

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e entire holiday.Many years later, when emptying the loft. All those gifts from their dad came back down. Some constructed, but many still in the original boxes, some still not unwrapped. Their father’s interest in them having dissolved once he lost the control factor. My kids now nearing their twenties, had only vague memories of those toys. But they recalled every cardboard box playground they had ever created. And soon started recreating those memories with the current stash of packing boxes.Thinking back to those events, I noticed a glaring error in my plans this year. A major factor, as to why I feel so unproductive this year. Despite being exhausted trying to fit everything in. I forgot to consider the adventure. I based all my goals and productivity targets, on factors out of my control.I planned this many followers, that many page views, another amount of income — all factors out of my control. All ego-inflating. All things that need to come after the main work. It’s the adventure of exploring my craft that should be front and center of my goals. Without those adventures I have nothing.If this year has taught me anything, its for the need to be adaptable to the requirement for change.So I’m now sat reassessing this years’ goals. Creating an adventurous plan to measure my productivity. Validating it by the journey — not the outcome. I will be concentrating on fitting in more basic creation processes. Writing, sketching, and experimenting with some more creative design. The rest will hopefully evolve by itself. As the saying goes “if you build it, he/they will come” (Field of Dreams, 1989).</article></body>

A Happy Creative Life is about the Adventure

Haunting Christmas memories leave me taking planning lessons from five year olds.

For a creative life measure the journey by your adventures — not the destination.

My ex-husband was a lazy ass when it came to gift-giving. Never made an effort when the children were young. Especially not at Christmas. He always left the job to me. The gifts were always thoughtful, sent with love, no strings attached. I would get the biggest hugs from the kids. Somehow I always managed to get the thing they were after!

When they were around six and seven , my ex started to get jealous. When he finally decided to get off his ass, and put in some effort, his attitude was all wrong. His gifts would have to be the biggest, most expensive, hi-tech toys. They were usually completely inappropriate for the children’s ages. Far too technical and needing heavy construction. Which at that age, the children had no patience for. When pointed out to him, he ignored — with his usual arrogance. His gifts had to outshine everybody else’s.

In the first couple of years, I let him carry on. But the outcome was always the same. The presents were handed out. Unwrapped. Then, no sooner than the children had them in their hands. There gone — snatched away. Their dad snarling ‘its too complicated — I’ll put it together”. He and his brothers, sat deliberating construction plans for hours. Whilst I’m left comforting screaming children. If they argued, their father would respond with unnecessary punishment. Pushing them aside again.

The truth is he never bought those gifts for the children. They were gifts intended for himself because the ‘man’ never grew up! It was an act designed to inflate his ego and take control. My children’s Christmas measured by the uncontrollable factor of their father’s bad attitude.

After a few years of the same results, he still not seeing what an ass he was. I knew his attitude was never going to change. So I reframed the outcome for the children. Their father always leaving wrapping to me — I took my opportunity. I began wrapping ‘ pass- the- parcel’ style. Gathering stacking boxes and other little gifts to go in-between. Crayons, pens, scissors, stickers, tape. Any suitably aged crafting gear packed in-between the boxes.

The final layer was fuel for inspiration. Taking the form of an age-appropriate picture book. Each year a different adventure to explore. The subjects of those books — camping, knights, aliens — it didn’t matter. My children already knew what to do.

Whilst dad was busy arguing with his brothers over the construction of his gift. My children were busy with their creations.

The living room soon full of cardboard playhouses. Artistically decorated with all their new crafting gear. They made castles, spaceships, jungle gyms. The only limiting factor was their imagination. Those cardboard box creations kept the kids entertained for the entire holiday.

Many years later, when emptying the loft. All those gifts from their dad came back down. Some constructed, but many still in the original boxes, some still not unwrapped. Their father’s interest in them having dissolved once he lost the control factor. My kids now nearing their twenties, had only vague memories of those toys. But they recalled every cardboard box playground they had ever created. And soon started recreating those memories with the current stash of packing boxes.

Thinking back to those events, I noticed a glaring error in my plans this year. A major factor, as to why I feel so unproductive this year. Despite being exhausted trying to fit everything in. I forgot to consider the adventure. I based all my goals and productivity targets, on factors out of my control.

I planned this many followers, that many page views, another amount of income — all factors out of my control. All ego-inflating. All things that need to come after the main work. It’s the adventure of exploring my craft that should be front and center of my goals. Without those adventures I have nothing.

If this year has taught me anything, its for the need to be adaptable to the requirement for change.

So I’m now sat reassessing this years’ goals. Creating an adventurous plan to measure my productivity. Validating it by the journey — not the outcome. I will be concentrating on fitting in more basic creation processes. Writing, sketching, and experimenting with some more creative design. The rest will hopefully evolve by itself. As the saying goes “if you build it, he/they will come” (Field of Dreams, 1989).