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Posts tagged with Creativity

Dear Mindfulist: Why Bother?

Dear Mindfulist: Why Bother?

The world is unraveling. What does it mean to make something—a painting, a memoir, a small business—when the ground itself seems uncertain?

Dear Mindfulist,

I retired recently, after a long career that left little room for the things I kept promising myself. Now the room has opened, and I find I don't quite know what to do with it.

The house is quiet. My husband is here, and our two elderly cats, but the days have a different texture now. I have more time than I have had in decades, and more ideas than I expected: painting, perhaps, or textile art. A memoir about a childhood that was, by any measure, unusual. Even the possibility of a small consulting practice, a way

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A conversation with somatic psychotherapist Maira Holzmann

A conversation with somatic psychotherapist Maira Holzmann

On Arriving Through the Body—A conversation with somatic psychotherapist and coach Maira Holzmann.

On Arriving Through the Body

A brief note: This conversation was shortened and very lightly edited for length and clarity.

What does “arrival” mean in the body, not as an idea?

MAIRA: Arrival, for me, is when attention comes out of the mind and into the body—when we are no longer living 90 percent of the time from the neck up. It’s the moment we begin to sense our lived experience directly: the breath, the sensations, the movement, the contact with the ground or the chair.

Often, arrival begins with something very simple. Just noticing the rise and

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Dear Mindfulist: Orchard of Unfinished Things

Dear Mindfulist: Orchard of Unfinished Things

The thought of closing doors on possibilities makes me restless. How do I stay true to my abundance without drowning in it?

Dear Mindfulist,

I sometimes think my studio is more graveyard than workshop. On the shelves are canvases with only backgrounds painted, journals with a dozen opening lines, folders of “new project” outlines that taper off by page three.

Every time I feel momentum, another idea calls. I chase it, exhilarated, sure this will be “the one.” But soon it dulls, and I drift again. I tell myself I’ll circle back, but mostly I don’t. The unfinished work begins to feel heavy, like an accusation.

Friends urge me to “just commit.” But the thought of closing doors on the

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