“Write one word in the chat that articulates your intention for this workshop”. I didn’t even think. The word that came to mind was LEARN. Learn. While all of the others were typing these wonderfully creative, thoughtful, insightful words, all I could come up with was learn. Not that learning wasn’t my intention, it’s just that I immediately began comparing my word with others. Surely there was a more “high falooten” word I could have used besides learn. Now it was in the chat for all eternity and as the facilitator of the workshop read down the list, she very kindly (as she always is), said something nice about my plain, unassuming word.
LEARN. Yes, that was my intention, to take this workshop, to absorb everything I could and learn how to get my creative sparks flying. You see, I’m actually pretty good at coming up with big plans and ideas, but the follow through isn’t necessarily there. And lately, due to Covid, my work changed, and life became one big long to-do list, most “to-doing” for others. This workshop, this spur of the moment, never spent this kind of money before, what am I getting myself into workshop was for ME to learn for ME. Not for others, not for another organizations, but something completely selfish for me.
Back in the spring, I had the opportunity to work with another coach, this time working to understand my strengths. My top 5 strengths are Deliberative, LEARNER, Ideation, Individualization and Input. I have a need to learn, a need to carve out time to think, a need to create. For the longest time, I have been teaching others, working for others, finding solutions for others without the needed time to THINK before I do these things. Like a thirsty person needs water, people like me need time to just engage in thinking. This lack of engagement in thinking completely emptied my bucket. You become a machine after that, marking items off of that to-do list, fixing problems, staring at a screen. The blogs stopped because I had nothing to write about, my conversations lacked substance because I had nothing to talk about. The most I could do when someone asked how I was or what I was doing was to go over the to-do list, in the hopes that they might be impressed with my productivity. I’ve never been more frustrated.
Then this workshop came up in my email. The Spark File Creativity Workshop. It was such a wild hair thing to do. A way to begin my year, literally on the 1st-3rd of January. Something just for me. Why not? I had met one of the coaches several years ago at the Met Conference and she suggested a book. A book that changed the way I looked at my leadership skills and being an introvert. She understood from a personal perspective. I knew I could attend this workshop and be “safe” to learn.
So, at 11:00 a.m. yesterday morning, I, along with 37 others from around the country and the world began a journey as a group and as individuals. Thirty seven others with unique ideas, dreams and aspirations, people with credentials that far surpass mine, people looking for affirmation, guidance and strategies so that they can continue to pursue those creative endeavors. At our first break, I walked out into the living room with a big grin on my face. This was AWESOME. So much learning. So much time to just THINK. So much time to concentrate on my creative ideas and endeavors. So much time to consider what it is that I want to do with the rest of my life. We’re asked to write for 10 minutes and seconds later we’re told the 10 minutes are up. I have no time for multi-tasking, everything is so focused, and we get so much accomplished. In just two days, I’ve learned more than I ever thought I would.
Tomorrow we complete this particular journey and we’re left to take the new tools we’ve been given to see how far we can go. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I’ve learned I’ve had the ability to do what I’ve wanted all the time. I just have to believe in myself like others have believed in me all along. And get specific as to what I want to do. And find accountability partners. And set deadlines. I’ve learned a lot. But most of all, I’ve learned that I need to learn. Maybe it’s not such a simple word after all.