Field notes from a windswept cast away

Hello Reader,

My mom pushed me off the edge. Her sudden death in 2021 reminded me I have this one life, and it’s going to end at some unknown point in time, so I might as well live it.

Living it meant launching my own studio and seeing where my creativity might travel when not confined to a desk and four walls.

It started with one big heart-beating-out-of-my-chest leap.

I launched Kollektiv Studio in January 2022.

I let go of what I thought my career would look like.

I had creativity on one hand, which I wanted to approach in a different way, having no idea what that way would be, and coaching on the other.

I felt excited, but also lost at sea, sunburned and parched on a plank of wood. I practiced trusting. I rolled freedom around in my mouth like candy. Other days, my shoulders held the tension of the unknown, brow wrinkles deepening, “What the actual fuck am I doing?” But I stayed in it.

It wasn’t easy at first, moving to being an independent creative without the backing of a big agency. But it’s also been incredibly freeing, like throwing off a wire-cup bra after a long day.

It took time to shake off learned corporate behaviors, from being chained to my desk to chest-beating. The need to prove my worth, the value of my ideas and what I produce, how hard I work, and what a good soldier I am. It meant letting go of the traditional ladder, no longer trying to rise up the rungs, get that next title, award, big accolade, or paycheck.

I grew into this new space. Felt myself in it. I found myself at my desk more often than not, needing to reprogram my muscle memory. Created evidence that I could trust myself and life when I had no idea where the next project or paycheck would come from.

After being in business for a year, the anxiety dissipated, and the throat grip became an occasional squeeze of the hand.

Eventually, the dots started to connect and creative partnership emerged, a mixing board of coaching and creativity, dials adjusted for each collaboration.

Things got even clearer when I decided to stop forcing what I thought I should be doing, instead getting curious about the opportunities coming my way, letting life lead. It’s brought me closer to creativity in ways I never could have imagined.

This is what happens when we release ideas of what things should look like, how they should happen, and what we should be doing (we often should ourselves to death).

I might not be rolling in it, but I’m strengthening my ability to receive more and venture further into the scintillating, uncertain unknown. I have what I need. I trust that life is unfolding at the pace I need to contain and create more (even if that might not be at the pace I think it should be going - Hello, Mrs. Recovering Speed Queen).

Six months later, I got the call to write my book (Literally. The founder of a hybrid publisher reached out) and I answered. I needed to create the space for Welcome to the Creative Club to enter my life.

I started writing my weekly newsletter months earlier, which, unbeknownst to me, showed me what topics I was gravitating toward, and kept me writing. I had no idea life was preparing me for my book.

I couldn’t have orchestrated this on my own. I didn’t even see it when it was happening. I couldn’t. I was deep in the creative process. I decided to trust life. And my oh my, the places it took me. And continues to take me.

The book led me to new shores, opportunities, and amazing creative collaborations, including forty podcast appearances that taught me how to show up for my story, all versions of myself, and my art.

Welcome to the Creative Club brought the talented musician and producer Tyler Bodkins and me together, and six months later, a spoken word album and a deep friendship were born. Famished is now live. I’d love to hear what you think.

I couldn’t have anticipated or located these places on a map. I’m glad I didn’t head back to dry land. Grateful for the storms that toss me around and the sun that dries my hair and eyes. Fully living this life is a package deal, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I feel jaw-clenchingly, cheeks-hurtingly alive.

I still clutch rocks as I practice surrendering to the current, even when I hear a waterfall in the distance. It’s better than never leaving seemingly solid ground.

This is what living it looks like to me. Sometimes this fire to LIVE IT burns me, other times it fuels me. Ultimately, it helps me drift further from the known shore, drinking coconut water on exotic islands, having no idea where the current will take me next.

Keep creating, especially when you feel like you have no clue what you’re doing or where you’re going.

If you’re dipping your toe in, it’s time to cannonball into what’s calling you.

If you’re in the water, remember you’re moving and being moved in the direction of what you’re meant to create next.

And I’m so here for it.