Over the weekend, I shot some arrows. Not metaphorical, but real arrows with a bow. We spent the evening with my family at the local summer fair. As we live in Germany, these fairs pop up everywhere and are like miniature versions of Oktoberfest. You need a certain type of energy to be there. On this occasion, with the stimulus, the noise, the people, the lights, and my son pulling on my leg, “mami, mami, let’s go on the next ride,” I suddenly had the strong urge to shoot some arrows into a target. Not out of frustration, but rather a craving to focus on something, deeply, for at least a few seconds.
So I went ahead and took a stab at archery with about 6 arrows. The first one hit the outer ring, and each one after that got a bit closer, until the 4th arrow, where I hit the center.
What I noticed was the beauty of that focus: the impulse to make it all go quiet and be fully present with the target. What’s more, once I spent that time calibrating myself towards the target, I needed far fewer shots to get to the target - even as a complete beginner.
That simple act of calibration felt exactly like what’s missing in many people’s creative process. And why we so often get stuck in never-ending loops of fruitless action that exhaust us and lead nowhere.
In the last few issues of Unlearn Letter, I’ve introduced the creative seasons, and we spent some time in fall, a time of letting go of our outdated beliefs and identities. And we spent time in winter, a time when we embrace stillness and connect with our core desires.
What I realized in this moment of stillness before shooting an arrow is that this is the pause that winter provides. It’s a moment to calibrate, to position your body, your attention, your energy all in a certain direction.
All this needs to happen before you shoot the arrow.
In your creative life, calibration means aligning with what you want to feel, say, and do.
That’s the target:
FEEL - what do you want to experience?
SAY - what do you want to express?
DO - what do you want to execute?
And when you finally take your shot?
Is that a guarantee that you’ll hit the target?
Of course not!
You may still need to practice, learn new skills, and experiment with different approaches. But it helps tremendously to calibrate and align yourself first.
Once you have that full-body orientation, it’s time to take some shots.
And that’s when spring comes in!
Spring is a time for action, for exploring and testing things out. In nature, spring is a time for planting seeds and seeing what might sprout. In your artist’s journey, spring is when you plant ideas, and see which has roots, which wants to bloom.
In spring, you are bravely exploring the potential paths that will take you to your target.
How? Mostly, through trial and error.
LEARN - what do you want to practice or explore?
TRY - what do you want to test or experiment?
I personally love spring. I love beginnings, blank pages where I get to pour some new paint. It’s satisfying to feel the energy of possibility, the rush of learning new skills or experiencing new environments.
But I can sometimes overcomplicate things. I can get stuck in perfectionism. In trying to get it right. That’s like planning the perfect shot, as if we only had one arrow!
Let me give you an example…
Earlier this year, I realized I had a strong wish to finish a children’s picture book for my son. I had been telling and retelling a story for him, which he loved. And I felt the desire to put it into a tangible object.
As I started working on the project, I raised the stakes. I began imagining publishing this story and explored self-publishing and traditional publishing. I researched partnering with illustrators and considered learning to illustrate it myself. I bought the necessary tools and went on tangents that made the project bigger and bigger — all without even finishing the manuscript.
Then I started believing that this project was too big, and I had other priorities to attend to this year. And damn, maybe I needed to wait for the following year to really get started.
That’s when I realized that I was raising the stakes - and that was keeping me stuck from moving forward with ease.
Here’s the thing:
Not every project needs to be huge. And definitely not at the beginning. Idea seeds need time to take root and sprout. And many of our creations can (and probably should) start small.
This reminded me of a question that Tim Ferris often proposes:
What would it look like if it were easy?
You don’t need to make it hard for it to be worth it. Easy, fun, and light have a magnetic energy. You repeat what feels good, and that’s how devotion builds - and how you stay naturally engaged to keep going.
Spring is a time for play. For experimentation. For getting it wrong.
If you want one simple shortcut to design a curiosity-fueled experiment, I highly recommend the simple but effective formula from Anne-Laure Le Cunff (author of Tiny Experiments):
I will [action] for [duration].
Lower the stakes and design the experiment to be delicious.
After completing your experiment, you can assess:
Did I enjoy it?
What did I learn?
Do I want to continue?
Is there something I’d like to change?
Spring is not about getting it right on the first try. It’s about enjoying the creative process and inching towards your vision over time.
Remember, even after extensive calibration with my bow and arrow, I still needed a few shots to learn and get to the bullseye. But it was a whole lot easier, once I took the time to be fully present and calibrate towards the target.
ANNOUNCEMENTS
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Thanks for being here!
With love,
Paula