i recently attended a workshop run by a DOer. i took pages and pages of notes and i’ve been reading back through them a lot since then. some of the things he said made a real impression on me. yes, i’d heard some of it before, spoken by different people, using different words. hell, i’ve even repeated similar things as mantras at different times in my life.
however this time, more than any other, those things have stuck. and they’ve been on repeat in my brain ever since.
one of them was to write out a list of all the worst case scenarios, all the what could go wrongs with creating something new. another was to tell my story. in my words.
(for those of you who come here for the photos, sorry. this one is long. there are things that need to be said. i promise to go back to the photos once my brain has been emptied of these thoughts. and i’d be grateful if you read this anyway)
there’s been a few very restless nights in my recent past since announcing the birth of NZ creative retreats to friends and family. thoughts of failure have been screaming around in my head, setting up camp; with tents and pickets and shouting.
today i’m ready to give them notice, i want to bring them into the light. shake the dust off them and move them along. and i want them to leave, without any fuss.
so, here is my story and my things that could go wrong list.
a few years ago i went to squam. it was the first place i’d been where not only was creativity allowed, it was received in a fierce embrace and given free run of the rockywold deephaven camp. it changed me. and it got me thinking about how it might feel to read about a retreat like that and then feel a real longing for something similar but not be able to find it in my local area.
i thought about how i might have felt, had i been living in new zealand, reading about so many bloggers i love, going and making new friends, meeting people for the first time, being welcomed into a creative playful community.
and it made me sad.
because, no matter how much i looked, i couldn’t find anything like it in new zealand, or australia. and i wanted for people in the pacific to experience a similar kind of community that i felt at squam.
nzcr is never going to be a replacement for squam in new zealand – nor do i want it to be. it’s not like squam – elizabeth and her team of beautiful elves have created something very special there and i take my hat off to them all.
my dream is simply for nzcr participants to have a place where they can feel creative freedom and acceptance; somewhere that is just for them. where they are taken care of, fed beautiful meals and guided in perhaps some new directions for their creativity to wander. my hope is that they all form some new friendships and have people they can go on play dates with, or email for support if they’re feeling a little wobbly.
i don’t want to be a ‘teacher’ at nzcr, i want to simply be a catalyst… a stepping stone… so everyone who comes can take a first (or another) step into exploring their creativity – mapping their creative edges if you like.
but i’m afraid.
- - what if no-one else signs up and we have to cancel the event? i’d be letting those people down who have already taken a faithful leap and paid a deposit
- - i’m afraid it will be mediocre. and i want it to be brilliant
- - i’ll forget all my notes and have nothing to share with the participants, or give them as handouts to take home
- - i will cry in front of everyone
- - they won’t love all the goodies that we’ve been working hard to prepare
- - we will forget something important
- - my workshop day will suck because i don’t know enough about photography to share anything (after all, i’m still learning stuff myself)
- - people won’t understand why this retreat was created (it’s not for money or fame, by the way)
- - what if the WHY isn’t enough
- - what if the reason that we don’t fill the retreat is because people think it’s a stupid idea
- - that no-one will allow themselves the chance to try (even if it’s scary)
i’m not at all worried about the money side of it – if i have to forfeit the deposit for the beautiful retreat centre and refund all the participants, that’s okay. but i haven’t booked my tickets home yet; my fear seems to be stopping me. if the retreat doesn’t happen, do we really need to go back to new zealand? it is a long way from england…
i can feel all the worry like a soft ball of wool sitting down in my belly. and i’m trying really hard not to cry.
i am holding on to the hope that we will fill the retreat – that people will gift themself with the chance to experience a weekend of creative play and be brave enough to jump.
and here i am. writing from a dark place that is also lined with hope. this feels like my path. but it’s also really scary. and i feel (right now) like the only footsteps that mark the way are my own.
so (if you’re still with me at this point – and i thank you if you are) i’m asking for your help. if you can think of anyone who might like to read my story and find out more about the retreat in new zealand in march, please would you share?
there are buttons at the bottom of this post to make it easy for you – or leave me a comment if you would like to support this dream some other way. questions regarding my sanity are also welcome
with all of my heart, from the bravest place inside of me
i thank-you
we ate moules frites, drunk beer, ate chocolate & belgian waffles. i came home with a couple of hefty blocks of cheese and some kitchenware (put me in a city, i’ll sniff out a kitchen shop in no time). we hung out with two of the people we love most in the world.
i’m once again sitting at my computer in my bathrobe… a common morning occurrence in this household over the past months.