Field notes from the playground

Hello Reader,

I got the full body chills listening to the synth track my friend Tyler made for one of the poems from my book, Welcome to the Creative Club.

It’s called Pleasure Principle.Tyler's rhythmic, throbbing synthesizers and dreamy euphoria washed over me, the notes raindrops dancing across my skin. He beautifully captured the feeling of the poem in sound. Hot damn.

I never would have met Tyler if I didn’t write the book. A friend I met on X shared it with him, we connected, and the collaboration flowed naturally.

When you venture into the expansive unknown creative field, you never know what will come to meet you in between wheat stalks.

But first, you have to step off the ledge, off the scaffolding that holds you, and into the mystery. Make big bets on yourself. Follow that whisper tickling your ear. Enjoy the ride as the rollercoaster tick-tick-ticks to the top and then drops.

It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once. But today, it just felt good. And it doesn't just suddenly happen. We didn’t see Spiderman’s behind-the-scene workouts, which involved numerous box jumps and stair hops. He didn’t start on the roof.

My first big leap was leaving my cushy creative director job to start Kollektiv Studio in 2021. The safety net ripped away as I jumped. That was scary af and also incredibly freeing.

Ever since I made the decision to start creatively directing my life, I’ve tasted a variety of new flavors. I was sitting at the brunch buffet at the Bellagio in Vegas, just nibbling on a mini muffin. Now, I’m bravely savoring Oysters Rockefeller, truffle omelettes, and passionfruit kombucha. The whole damn menu suddenly became available.

The spread is in front of us, but we have to serve ourselves, and we don’t always know what we’re going to get. Usually, we stick with oatmeal because it’s safe, we know what to expect, but it gets old and clumpy real fast.

That one big jump strengthened my quads and ankles. I kept training, stretching into new spaces for two years, then the opportunity to write a book appeared, and I leaped again, and now I’m here, listening to a gorgeous, goosebump-raising synth track for a poem from the book, which will be made into an album.

It feels awesome. Not because I’m expecting my spoken word tracks to top the charts, but because it’s so pleasurable to co-create and have Tyler take my words further than I could have imagined.

The only way I fell into this was to allow myself to fall. I had to let go of old ways of moving and building. Be okay with not knowing and do it anyway. Follow the sumo wrestler tug from my heart and gut.

I needed to allow myself to play and trust.

As a kid and teenager, I didn’t think I could play. I had to be responsible for myself and often, my parents. So play was a slice I enjoyed for a moment. I didn’t allow myself to enjoy it for too long because I was afraid of being vulnerable. I had to be alert too.

As I grew up, play became synonymous with escapism, often drinking and partying, which also was for a limited time only. Then I had to make my way back to reality ranch and responsibility-ville. I saw play as dangerous; as something I could only do after the dishes were done. I put an invisible restriction on myself. Being responsible also meant following the prescribed path - a corporate gig with a side of creativity light.

Creativity is permission to play. Come out and play with life. I had to give little me permission to play before adult me could sign that slip. In a therapy session, I visualized that little girl. She was inside, attentive, but really wanting to dance and hop in the yard.

I opened the door, told her it’s okay to dance in the grass in her frilled floral Laura Ingalls dress, hands in the air, sun beaming down, drawing freckles.

I’m still giving myself permission. And that’s okay. I sign one slip, and then a more audacious one arrives. That seems to be how it works.

I’ve learned that playing is not abandoning myself or life through escape, but being deeply present with it and trusting it (and myself), and having fun with it. Because what’s the point if it’s not fun or pleasurable? Life without pleasure is just obligation wearing different outfits.

It might not feel spine-tingling all the time, only change is constant, and that’s also the trip. I don’t want to get stuck on one note.

This is also what I help my clients do. I creatively partner with unconventional dreamers and doers to birth the ideas knocking on their ribcage.

I’m cheering on the ledge, legs dangling, raising my glass and smiling as the sun turns the sky into a tequila sunrise. Sometimes, I’m also in the air, flailing around, smiling right next to them.

We get to leap together. I can’t invite people places I am not willing to go.

I get to meet people, like Tyler, and we get to play.

What makes this collaboration so juicy, so deeply resonant, is the space we create for the ideas to emerge. We remind each other to release expectation and see what happens when we play in the mystery. And it’s cool af. Check out the entire video here.

It’s no coincidence this is entering my life as I’m exiting old, stale places, like the bowels of social media, and focusing on creating and connecting. It felt like a bad breakup, riddled with grief and fear from leaving what’s known, even though it’s not working anymore.

Once we leap, we land somewhere new, unknown, the surface of a new planet.

We get to play, planet hop, and create new worlds and synth beats.

We get to fall in love again with ourselves, our art, business, and life.

• Run our fingers across the edges of collarbones.
• Romance our ideas, layer rose petals in the bathtub.
• Sweet talk the universe, send love notes to the mystery.
• Love bomb our creativity, impatiently waiting for its text.

I have no idea where all this will go, but for now, I’m just enjoying the playlist on this road trip (and it is a trip).

Each leap we take builds our creative muscles for the next one.

Your turn.

What's the creative leap that's been whispering to you?

The one that makes your stomach drop when you imagine taking it?

Hit reply - sometimes saying it out loud to someone else is itself an act of permission.

Keep creating,