Thank you to all of you who have reached out to show love & concern for my health. ❤️ I want you to know, I have regained some movement in my face, and have a half smile again! Incredibly grateful.

Hey {{First Name | there}},

Since I move to Iowa, I have felt like I am growing and evolving at warp speed. Shedding layers: conditioned beliefs, limitations, fears on a weekly, sometimes daily basis.

If you’ve been reading my emails, you’ve seen it.

If you’ve listened to the Creative Current podcast, you’ve heard it.

I had one friend/listener reach out to specifically comment on the energy change she’s noticed shift as the episodes drip out.

It’s true. When we first started recording the podcast, I was sort of pretending. Not deceitfully, but just, that’s how conditioned I’ve been. To shrink. To play small. To relate and absorb rather than shine.

But something happened, quickly, as I worked through The Artist’s Way and held the conversations with Jess. I recognized that the wisdom Julia Cameron shares in the book is self evident in my own life. That I didn’t need to be taught these lessons so much as notice how I already embody them.

So it was a bit of an unmuzzling of myself.

Letting myself speak freely. Getting comfortable with the sharp points that come out when I’m convicted of something. Accepting that I still might be misunderstood, and that some listeners will bypass nuance.

I see the outcome, and it’s really good. Insight, examples and philosophy that actually go somewhere. That can be used by other people. That build on top of each other.

These things were in me, and I knew them, but I didn’t have a channel to express them or share them. A weekly newsletter can’t capture that frequency.

And I’m not sure the podcast can either, but it was a start. It was like I remembered how to turn the tap on and access flow with my voice - not just the written word.

For the past couple of months, I have been feeling on the precipice of showing up in a bigger way. More visibility. Broader reach. And moving from writing and speaking to transmitting.

And if you’re like, “Who the f*** does Jennifer think she is?! Transmitting?! Transmitting what?!”

Well, the good news is, I’ve been preparing for you, too.

A part of myself I am getting comfortable with these days is my confronting nature. That for reasons I don’t fully understand and won’t get into now, most people have a reaction to me.

I recognize how almost all of the personal conflict in my life has taken the same shape. I play small to make others comfortable. And if not, I am too much and people back away. Both are a loss. I have used so much energy over the course of my life to evade these outcomes.

And I’m done.

This realization has been building for months and months. But the Lyme Disease diagnosis was the trigger that forced me to decide. The reality is, I have significantly reduced capacity right now. It is a real, physical limitation. If I push myself, my right leg goes numb. If I am feeling tense, the migraine sneaks back up my neck.

I can not parent under these circumstances without modification to my life.

A decision I was presented with was to stop the work I’m doing. Take things “off my plate”. Rest, recover, take it easy.

I do need to rest and recover. I am.

But what that choice neglects to acknowledge is the vast number of other options that could meet the end goal. And, importantly, it neglects the expansive meaning, purpose and life that my work brings me.

It is more constricting to think of staying silent - going on hiatus - than it is to write. To publish. To move the energy that’s in me out into the world.

And yet, there still is a decision to make, and that is about the how.

How do I show up?

And this was the much more interesting and insightful question for me to ask. Because I saw the answer show up in what I’ve been learning the past few months through the podcast, and taking action on the other creative projects in my care.

And the answer is to show up without the filters. To just trust the flow. To not expend energy trying to shape shift into a more palatable version of myself. A more digestible version. A weaker, more relatable version.

In essence, I am choosing to show up in my power. Power that I have been growing more and more comfortable with.

And my hope is that in doing so, you will relate with your own power.

No more playing down to the lowest common denominator.

I’m raising the bar.

Here's the thing — this isn't new for me.

Vision precedes almost every big decision I make.

When I was 19, I went on a 3-day silent retreat to the Abbey of Gethsemani, the monastery Thomas Merton lived and worked in.

While there, I had a vision one night of myself moving back to my hometown (I had moved out of state for college), and living in a house that supported teen moms.

I had this certainty, but many of the details were vague. One thing that felt clear was a specific friend that I felt was somehow connected to the mission with me. So I called her, and I shared my vision. I probably asked her, “Will you start this with me?”

To which, she understandably, said, no.

And I was left with this weight of calling, and loss of direction. I could have denied what I had experienced and the conviction I felt, but I chose to keep an opened perspective.

I talked to my parents and told them I needed to drop out of school and move back to Michigan. I felt crazy, and was coming up with all sorts of ideas and possible paths this vision might unfold.

In their grace, and probably desire to have me closer to home, they supported me.

I withdrew from school. Potentially a college drop out one semester in.

Then my friend called. The same one I had called only a week or two earlier.

And she had news.

Her cousin was expecting a baby, and her parents had asked my friend if she would be interested in living in a house with her to create a supportive environment.

Now my friend was asking me to move into the house with her and her cousin, who was a teen mom.

The vision I had came to life, and I didn’t need to force it. I just needed to trust it.

At 23, a vision arrived while on a hike. Me, speaking on a stage to an audience. I knew, instinctively, that it was from a book I had written. But, I didn’t have a plan to write a book!

By following the conviction, the book materialized. Along with a launch plan and strategy that included running and successfully funding a $14,000 Kickstarter campaign. A week before my 25th birthday, I self-published the book, even earning a Publisher’s Weekly review. And in the coming months, I was speaking on stages.

In recap form, it sounds so easy and effortless.

But you need to know that in real time, what it feels like is a constant loop of “Who are you to do that? Who the f*** is going to read a book from you? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

That "who are you" voice? I think almost everyone has it. I know you probably do too.

It shows up right when something matters. Right when the idea is good enough that you sense you might need to do something about it. And it's so convincing that most people just... stop. Not because the idea was bad. Because the voice was loud.

I have dozens of these stories, and the voice is always loud.

Let’s bring this to current day. Today was supposed to be the first Move & Make session. I had sold all 10 spots, plus my 2 kids. 12 kids and their parents were planning and excited to make some nature art together.

I chose to cancel the summer series over the weekend. It is a really painful decision to live with right now. But it also felt like a clear decision. The energy it would take to lead and facilitate the sessions is energy I don’t have right now.

The experience forced me to grapple with the questions: What was the point? Was it worth it to build this thing up if it never actually came to life? Was this idea and vision a drop of water in the pan that’s evaporating to steam, or will it come back around in time?

While I don’t have clear answers for these questions, what I do know is that I couldn’t bring myself to tell my son that I had cancelled Move & Make.

And that reality led me back to the heart of Move & Make. Which is, my son.

The entire vision and inspiration to create these art experiences were inspired by him. Watching him interact with nature, witnessing his creativity shine through collected objects, 3D art, and turning literal trash into treasures.

The moment I found out that his way of creating and expressing himself was being teased, and that he was hearing the cultural myth that art was for girls more than boys… I went mama bear. Move & Make is an expression of that energy.

Coming back to the heart of it, I still wanted to give my kids the experience. So I pivoted. Yesterday, I reached out to the families that had signed up whom I knew personally, and invited them to join us at our house for a much more low-key experience.

There’s still a lot of grief here. It pains me to disappoint people. It pains me that I couldn’t offer the option to join me at my house to everyone. It pains me that I am still fielding emails from parents who had been intending to sign up, now see that registration is closed, and are wondering if there still might be a way their kid can participate.

So in the pain, I am choosing to trust. Trusting myself that I am making the most integrity-driven decision I am able to. Trusting that what I learn and observe in this scaled back version of Move & Make will be enough to see the next steps, if any.

In the trust perspective, I see how this is another opportunity for me to show up without the filters. An invitation to not drop the work, but drop the filters.

Sometime I will share what the actual vision I first had for Move & Make was. But for now, I’ll share that the vision was not for in-person workshops. This summer series was invented by me as a practical way to experiment with the vision and gain proof of concept. It’s what I was able to conceptualize as a first step towards the bigger vision.

I always intended to follow through on it. But it’s interesting to imagine what might want to emerge when all my engineering is stripped away. Time will tell.

I want to leave you with this big idea: your creativity changes the world.

Every time someone acts on a real creative idea instead of sitting on it, something shifts. Not metaphorically — actually. What people believe is possible changes. What they think they're allowed to do changes. The options on the table, for them and for everyone watching, change.

That's not a nice idea. It’s the actual mechanism. It's how the future gets built. One person deciding the thing they're holding is worth more out in the world than it is staying safe inside them.

Let’s create the future.

Warmly,
Jennifer

Creative Current is the podcast I just launched with my friend and creative partner, Jess Schimm. We talk open-book style about our relationship with creativity and all it brings up in our lives. I love it so much. I trust you will too.

P.S. Want to encourage someone in your life whose taking creative risks? Share this email with them. It’s an encouragement to me, too!

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