Week Two: Pay Attention
Creative Practices for the Winter Doldrums
Week Two, friends.
(Here’s the Introduction and Week One if you are just joining the fun.)
A week of paying attention.
My mind automatically belts “If you want to be somebody, if you want to go somewhere, you have to wake up and pay attention,” from Sister Act 2. Very highbrow, I know. I’ll give it to Whoopi that we need to get back in the habit of paying attention.
Wow, Jack. Deep cuts on the Sister Act jokes. What exactly are we paying attention to? And why?
Good questions. I often hear—“I don’t have any ideas. I’m not creative. I don’t even know where to start.” My reply is, “It takes a little time to see what’s in you. Everyone is creative in some way. Let’s start by noticing what you are drawn to.”
Creativity is fostered by paying attention to our internal worlds, the beauty that’s around us, and the people in front of us. It begins by being present and making space for ideas to bloom and grow.
Ready to wake up and pay attention?
Questions:
What did you like to do as a kid? When were you the happiest? Make a list of 10 things from any age.
If your parents are still living and this conversation would not bring up trauma, call and ask them too.
After sharing about young Jackie last week, some of you sent me hilarious childhood photos and stories, and I LOVE this. Please send any ridiculous gems my way.
Free Time Exercise: Keep track of how you spend your free time this week. (Not chore time. What do you do when you get to decide?)
At the end of the week, jot down a few notes:
What brings you life? What gives you joy?
How do you spend your free time that is not fulfilling?
We’ll be talking about the answers next week, so just take notes this week.
Practices:
Get Outside: Take a Walk
A few tips:
Go alone and unplugged. Skip the music or podcast this time around.
Leave your phone on silent or at home if that is a possibility.
Walk out your front door, on your favorite path, or take yourself to a new place to explore.
Try to go when you have a little space and not a time crunch, but if 20 minutes at lunch is all you have, take that.
As you walk: Let your mind wander where it wants. See what you are drawn to, and what noises, smells, and sights you notice. Take a few minutes to notice and slow your breath.
When you get home: Before you look at your phone, jot down any notes, ideas, or observations that came up on your walk. These don’t have to be profound. Don’t worry if you don’t have much. Just walk.
A note on walking in the winter: Jackie—it’s cold! Don’t you live in California? Not fair. Depending on where you are, a walk might feel difficult. And yes, I live in California, so no, our winter weather is not very intense. A few years ago though, I found myself in the Midwest during the pandemic and had to re-learn how to make it through the season in a cold climate. The resounding advice from winter lovers was to get outside often, no matter how many layers it required. They promised me it would help me enjoy it more and clear out the mental junk. And so I learned, somewhat begrudgingly, to get out into it.
A Story about Paying Attention:
My holiday season was layered with sadness this year. What began this fall continued all the way through, merriment and grief stacked up like Rachel’s weird trifle in Friends where she puts peas and meat on top of custard and jam. In a matter of a few hours at one event, I led a game involving grown adults wiggling into Depends without using their hands and then listened as my cousins shared their profound grief over their baby facing all kinds of difficulties. I usually love a day that involves both the funny and the deep, but this was a bit much, even for me. It was only one layer among a dozen, and I felt tangled up between them.
On Christmas Eve, my parents and I drove back to the farm at nightfall. As we pulled up the lane, I noticed the moon rising. It was bright and clear, a few days out from being the Cold Moon, the last full moon of the year. Maybe this is old news to you, but I’ve only recently discovered all the full moons have names. Did you know March’s is called the Worm Moon? Now there’s a reason to throw a party.
I digress. Back to the Cold Moon. It was a mild night for December, absent of the gale-force winds that often haunt the farm. As I got out of the car, a thought popped into my head, “Go take a walk.”
“Now? In the dark?” I argued with myself. “I don’t wanna. I’m tired. I want to go sit on the couch and watch a movie.”
“Just go.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “FINE.”
My parents looked at me a bit sideways when I told them what I was doing, but wished me well as they tucked themselves into the cozy house.
I headed down the lane. My feet crunched the gravel and the quiet settled over me. I exhaled. When was the last time I felt relaxed walking alone at night? What a relief not to be on high alert, scanning for danger. Granted, the most dangerous predators around these parts are the rabbits and groundhogs who torture my father. For an extra layer of security, there is a high, high chance that the passengers of the three or four cars passing by know my family. Roots, baby.
My tangled-up little heart and I shuffled toward Fountain Creek, the moon at our back, lighting the way. Tears leaked out, diffused by the darkness. One boot plodded in front of the next, the road stretching out like a familiar friend. I remember riding bikes on this same path as kids, my brother and sister racing to the corner, spending hours building a world of our own under the bridge. How did we get so grown-up? How did life get so complicated? How did the world get so broken? What I wouldn’t give for a day with our young little selves, popping by our neighbors’ house to get lemonade.
I walked on, moaning, praying. After a while, the tears began to slow and I could feel my knots loosening. It was time to go home. I turned back towards the moon and discovered that while my back was turned, she decided to put on her Christmas best. Now layers of fluffy little clouds danced around her, and bursts of rainbows encircled her.
What kind of whimsical goodness is this? A Cold Rainbow Moon? You’ve got to be kidding. The appearance of rainbows at very particular times has been one of God’s longstanding jokes with me. I burst out laughing. Oh joy, you are a cheeky rascal.
I stood under the inky sky for a long time. Eventually, I found my way home.
Sometimes you have to get out into the winter.
Sometimes.
Tell me about your walk! Where did you go? What did you see? Tell me everything ;) Comment below or tag me on Instagram: @jackieknapp_
Workshops + Retreats: If you need a fresh take on a work event, my lighthearted workshops on creativity and self-care have been fan favorites for a variety of companies. You can find more info here. If you’d like to talk about planning a retreat for your group or church, please get in touch at jackie@jackieknapp.com.
Coaching: I have a few coaching spots open if you need help with a creative project or the project of life itself—I’d love to chat. Find more info here or email me to set up a free discovery call.
The Worm Moon, really? Ah, what happiness is mine. And there is most definitely a worm party on the March calendar!