Deborah Cooke: Author

How long has it been since you’ve tried something new?

We all establish habits and routines, and get used to doing things a certain way. This gives order to our lives and helps us be disciplined about getting things done. It keeps us organized. Maybe it keeps us sane.

It also can keep us from exploring the world and taking on new challenges.

This time, on my journey through The Artist’s Way, I’ve tried to do some things differently. I’ve worked through this program at least half a dozen times, each time seeing a gain in my creativity and resilience. I wanted a big gain this time, just for the fun of it, and spent some time thinking about my routines as applied to The Artist’s Way.

I never, for example, write my exercises in a blank book. I’ve always done them on loose paper and tossed them into my burn pile at the end of the course. This time, I chose a blank book from my considerable stash of blank books – I buy them because they’re beautiful, then can’t bear to ruin them by writing in them – and wrote in it. (EEK.)

There are quotes in the margins of The Artist’s Way from various people. Some of them are quite potent and I suspect that which one strikes you as important will change, depending on what you need to hear. Some of them were written or said by people I’m not familiar with. I’ve always found them interesting, but read them, then forgot about them.

This time, I wrote down the quotes that resonated for me, adding them to my blank book (which is not so blank any more!) as well as the quotes from the text itself that seemed particularly significant. I’ve started to research these people and to learn who they are, what they’ve done, where and when they live(d). On these research forays which are only for my own curiosity, I’m stealing glimpses into entirely new worlds. That’s exciting stuff – it makes me realize (again) how big and complicated and fascinating the world truly is.

There are also exercises that I’ve never done – because I think they’re silly or pointless or doomed to be ineffective. There are others that I’ve done over and over again. This time, I’ve made a point of taking on those exercises that I’ve never done before, especially the ones that I think are dumb. I did affirmations and copied them out daily. I wrote the essays on my view of divinity. I composed the fake letters to people in my past, and to myself in past and future. And the exercises didn’t feel silly – they were fun. Even better, they showed me truths I’d never glimpsed before.

By approaching the course in a different way, I discovered new facets in its teachings. I learned more about creativity and about myself and about the world. All of that helped me to ask better questions and derive better answers. This trip through the program – I’m halfway through it now – the results are remarkable. I’m writing more, writing better and my stress level is radically reduced. I feel tranquil and creatively potent. I’ve hit my stride.

This is the good stuff.

All because I tried something different. These weren’t big risks. I didn’t climb Mount Everest without oxygen. I simply challenged my own preconceptions.

Have you challenged yours lately?

Here’s another example for you. Mr. C. has a knitted sweater that he bought on one of his South American trips (during which he bought wonderful textiles at low prices and did not yet know me! Unfair!) which I’ve never been able to figure out. It’s knitted in two colours in a technique called entrelac. I always knew I could look up the directions, but I was trying to figure it out for myself.

No luck.

Last week, I dug out Eunny Jang’s tutorial in the Spring 2007 issue of Interweave Knits – it had caught my eye all those months ago, maybe tempting me. I surrendered. I cast on, using one of my cones of SWS (Natural Plum), followed the directions and here’s what I got:

I’ve felted it a bit, and I do need a looser cast-on to keep that lower edge from pulling in. It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty. Entrelac traditionally is worked in two colours, one for each line of squares that slants in one direction, but the space-dying of the SWS creates a similar pattern all by itself. I still don’t really understand how entrelac works, but I know that I can follow the directions and do it myself. That means it isn’t impossible, and it isn’t magic.

Look around. Peek at your preconceptions. What do you think is impossible, or magic, or silly, or likely to lead to failure if you try it? What’s the cost of trying it? What’s the cost of not trying it? Step out of your safety zone and try a new trick. You never know what might come of it.