why I just threw out my 2016 plan

Instead of asking yourself, “What do I want to create in 2016?”

Ask yourself this:

"What is exciting me now?"

Really -

What truly lights you up when you imagine it happening?

What fills your soul by the mere idea of it entering your mind and body?

If you don’t know the answer to those questions, then….

[DING DING DING!]

...you just scored yourself an opportunity!

(Yes, you read that correctly. An opportunity. )

Not knowing exactly where you want to put your focus and energy can open up doors to new adventures - IF you actually take a pause and be open to the mystery.

Instead of spinning your wheels in whatever you think you should be doing this January, try the following:

• Stop doing what you usually do.

• Empty the clutter inside and out.

• Dare to do nothing.

Why?

If you keep doing what you normally do, you’re not leaving any room for a new idea to enter your being.

Action without intention behind it is a ticket to burnout and Netflix binges.

Instead, take a conscious pause and LISTEN.

Here’s an example:

When I asked myself recently what is most exciting me right now, the answer scared me. I knew what wasn’t exciting me - i.e. most of the plans for 2016 that I had laid out back in November - but what was exciting me felt unclear.

I tried to plan out 2016 in a different way, but it just wasn’t coming to me.

So I gave myself permission to chill.

I started reading The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and decided to donate a big chunk of my wardrobe to Goodwill. I learned how to properly fold my clothes instead of throwing them into the drawers crumpled up. I gave away or threw out things that weren’t bringing me joy in my home.

I gave up on trying to make my business plan for 2016 and I cancelled some of the programming that I thought I should be doing. Although the people-pleaser in me freaked out, there was a deep part of me that trusted I was doing exactly what was best for me, and therefore everyone else.

I had days where I literally felt like I couldn’t get out of bed. (And I barely did.)

Tears streamed down my face as I read chapters of Agnes de Mille’s autobiography - connecting to something within me that I couldn’t quite put words to.

The only thing I did binge-watch was Kyle Cease’s “I Hope I Screw This Up” program, which blew my mind apart. (Thank you, Elizabeth DiAlto for mentioning his name on one of your recent webinars.)

I sought things that brought me joy and lit me up in the moment - whether or not they made sense or felt “productive.”

As I did all that, I realized that a bunch of addictive habits that had crept in in the last few months were falling away. My daily chai latte fix got replaced with a nettles/oatstraw/raspberry leaf tea concoction. Instead of defaulting to Netflix or Facebook in my downtime, the desire to journal and meditate returned to me.

And while I’m still not clear on what my 2016 will look like, I’m trusting that it will reveal itself.

Let me add in that this all felt risky to me. I’m not independently wealthy, nor do I even have a substantial savings account. To stop working or planning for awhile - in spite of the financial worries that creeped up - was HUGE for me. And it still is. But it’s working.

So what next?

Of all the clearing out I did, there's one date in January that I decided not to cancel: Wednesday January 27th, when I was planning on leading a workshop.

But here’s the thing -

It feels stale to call it a workshop or a webinar.

I don’t want to lead another “workshop.”

But I do want to facilitate an experience - for myself and for anyone who’s game.

While I don’t know yet what the exact content will be for this event, I do know what I want it to accomplish:

1. To allow me to be in my truest expression and joy, while giving other attendees permission to do the same.

2. To dance into the unknown (literally or figuratively) with courage and curiosity, even among fear or doubts.

3. To create a visceral experience of freedom from past shackles and deep trust in oneself.

I envision a room of people, gathered in a white brick room. Tears. Laughter. Connection. Movement. I feel myself in total flow, letting words speak through me and holding space for magic to happen. I imagine leaving that room with a deep sense of knowing in my body, with the clarity I was craving, with the courage to keep going.

So if these ideas excite YOU, I invite you to join me for this experience.

This is not about me “teaching” you something. This is about you saying YES to that part of yourself that craves a paradigm shift, that knows there’s something else out there for you. I don’t know the answers, but I do know that we can create possibilities together.

Click here to register for “This Is Not a Webinar” on January 27th (ONLINE).

I recognize that signing up for something that doesn’t really have a name or outline is a little risky. That’s exactly why I am asking you to sign up.

A creative life means taking steps into the unknown constantly.

This is just practice for the future stuff you’re going to create.

Let’s go.

And whether or not you join me for this step into the unknown together, I'll keep you updated on where it all leads me since this blog is another thing that I decided to keep going into the new year ;)

How about you? Tell me in the comments -

What's feeling stale and what is exciting you NOW? 

Will you take any steps to let go or make space? 

to the truth in you,

Jess

my wish for you on Christmas

….

Whether or not you celebrate the holidays in any way, I’m sending you a big hug on this Full Moon Friday.

A little creativity and a dance break here or there can go a long way in these darkest days of the year. Don't forget that.

with bright blessings,

Jess

….

[here's the poem in text form in case the image above didn't come through]

May your boots stay warm and dry

wherever you might roam.

May your heart stay open and calm

whether near or far from home.

May your belly avoid any aching

and your mind avoid negative rants.

Remember you can always find inner peace

If you stop everything and dance.

addressing the post-performance blues

In the years I’ve been taking a conscious approach to my creative life, there have been multiple times I noticed myself making different choices or having different reactions than I would have in the past. Last week, I wrote about my experience at the Dirty Dancing audition, which was quite a feat.

This week, I want to talk about the creative equivalent of postpartum depression.

(Especially since we are celebrating the completion of the Creative Fridays Showcase and what a fantastic experience that was for the performers and audience alike.)

You know that moment after you complete a big project, performance, or other creation that you had poured your heart and soul into?

That moment when a deep feeling of emptiness takes hold and you worry that you might never create anything again?

That moment. The creative postpartum blues.

Of course it can be sad. When you complete something that you’ve put a lot of work into, there is a natural void that takes hold in your life. You might say goodbye to certain people who were in the process with you. You might all of a sudden feel less purpose or motivation when you wake in the morning.

But here’s the question that can change everything -

What if the emptiness didn’t have to be a negative thing?

You see, the problem isn’t the void or empty feeling. That’s actually quite natural and part of the ebb and flow of the creative process, and of life.

The problem is the judgement you put on it.

When you make it into the end of the world, it becomes a drag. When you learn to embrace this phase of your creative process, you can feel quite free.

Here are a few of the common postpartum patterns I’ve noticed over the years in my coaching practice and in my own creative life:

1. Self-criticizing:

“Oh, I could’ve done that better…”

“Her thing was so much better than mine…”

You focus right away on everything wrong with what you did or didn’t do. You avoid taking in compliments or celebrating yourself.

2. Moving on:

Starting a different project immediately

Stopping creative process altogether

You don’t give yourself space to look at what you accomplished, but instead move quickly onto something new. You might even abandon your creative pursuits altogether.

3. Feeling down / Stuffing down:

Feeling depressed

Self-medicating with substances (food/alcohol/drugs)

You get weighed down by the empty feeling and shut off your emotions. You might stuff down the feelings with overeating or using substances to avoid feeling anything.

Take note of which patterns you identify with, or write down your own unique flavor.

And here’s the invitation:

If you feel those patterns coming up, take a moment to pause.

Breathe deep and close your eyes.

And do something that few dare to do:

FEEL IT.

Allow yourself to feel this side of the creative process.

Allow tears or sobbing heaves to be released if they need to.

Allow yourself the gift of tuning in without pressure to fix or change what’s coming up for you.

There is so much power in feeling into the emptiness.

The creative muses don’t like to be forced. They will shower their inspiration upon those who are most open and ready.

So keep your channel open and get friendly with the Void. It’s there to hold your hand until a new spark of inspiration is ready to be born within you.

How do you feel after a big performance or project completes?

How do you want to rewrite your postpartum patterns?

Take a moment and let your voice be heard in the comment box below.

You’re not alone.

dancing with the void,

Jess

the most terrifying creative thing I’ve done

I saw this audition notice for the Dirty Dancing musical on Friday night, right before our You Can Dance Again rehearsal (which, by the way, was at a different location than where we usually are, so I could easily never had seen it).

My heart leaped and I said YES in that moment. I was going to go! It was only a few days away on Monday morning, at a time that I could make work.

And then hours later I came up with all the reasons why I wouldn’t go:

• It was a cattle call, there will be hundreds of dancers there, and it won’t matter if I show up or not.

• I’m pre-menstrual and my boobs are too bloated.

• I’m not prepared enough and won’t have a chance to take jazz class a million times before it.

• My dance clothes are too schlubby.

• I have no experience at auditions like this.

• I’m too old. 32 is “over the hill” in dancer years.

I was pretty convinced I wasn’t going to go and “waste” my Monday morning. A couple of close friends encouraged me, but I still wasn’t going to go.

I thought I was being realistic, but actually I was terrified of going. Because deep down, I really wanted to.

Then a phone call happened that changed everything. Fred Steinmann, an astrologer and intuitive guide who I had met over a year ago at an artsy networking event, had been reaching out here and there to lend some advice from the stars. He was always really encouraging and supportive of my dancing pursuits, and so I had forwarded him the audition notice photo on Friday.

He called me and strongly urged me to go. He sensed that I was doubting myself and about to give up on my “dream.” He shared some pieces of my astrology that made sense. And then he said, “Ya know, I’ve been feeling called to tell you to read The Alchemist…”

WHAT?! I stopped him right there and explained that just 2 weeks ago, I picked up a copy that someone was giving away on the street, and re-read it right away. It had re-inspired me and set off a chain of uncanny events (that I’ll share another time, because this post is already long).

“Yes,” he continued, “it’s like you’re following your Personal Legend and you’re at the moment that you’re about to give up, and I’m giving you the sign to keep going.”

That was all I needed to hear. I changed my mentality from, “I can’t go, because I’m not perfect,” to “I must go because I felt the initial calling and there’s some reason I need to be there.”

Maybe the reason had nothing to do with the audition itself. I just needed to make the journey.

This shifted everything for me -

I drove home on Sunday after a day of family visits in NJ while “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” played on the radio. I made a pact with myself to go to that audition as ME. The me who didn’t spend all weekend preparing, the me with PMS and the same dance clothes I’ve had for years, the me who quit dance as a career when I was 19 but was now 32 and about to step into an audition room anyway.

I got back to Brooklyn in time to get into the YMCA in the last hour before they closed. In the empty yoga studio, half-lit with rows of spin bikes to my left, I danced it out to “Stay….just a little bit long-er...” (from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack) and got pumped to show up the next morning.

Audition Day

The alarm went off at 6:00am. I turned my head to the right to dismantle it and then quickly turned left to get back to the dream I was having. A few minutes later the same thing happened until I realized that it was time to rise. The day of the Dirty Dancing audition had arrived.

[Shit. I’m really doing this.]

 

I got dressed, finished packing up my dance bag, and walked to the subway before dawn.

Pearl Studios doesn’t open til 8, but I got there at 7:30am to sign my name on the Dirty Dancing Open Call list - I was number 7.

After eating breakfast in a crowded Starbucks next to a group of chipper young dancers who were obviously regulars to this kind of audition scene (cue all my insecurities), I walked into the waiting area studio and put my stuff down in the corner space.

My brain started going into comparison mode…

“They are all so young and do this all the time.”

“She has a really cute leotard.”

“Why isn’t anyone warming up yet?”

And then I got back to myself. Reminding myself that I deserve a place here just as much as anyone else.

The room filled up with more and more dancers as we got closer to 10am. The girl sitting across from me with blonde curls and minimal make-up (like me) was reading Amy Poehler’s book “Yes, Please” and wearing colorful leg warmers. I liked her already. So I let her know “I love your legwarmers.”

I then asked her, “So, do you go to these auditions all the time?”

“Actually,” she said, “this is my first audition back in 10 years. I just started taking classes again recently because I just really missed dancing.”

My heart expanded and my whole body found more ease.

I told her a bit about my story of returning to dance after years away from it and the You Can Dance Again group I created. We smiled, we laughed, we connected. And we walked into that audition room together with the first group of about 30 dancers.

The casting director started reading names from the stack of resumes she held, confirming we were in fact in the room.

“Jessie Grippo?”

“Here!” I said, feeling comforted and surprised when she called me what my family calls me, “Jessie,” instead of “Jess” which is actually printed on the resume.

Then David the choreographer introduced himself and took over. He let us know that they really wanted to see our unique expression and flair - it wasn’t about getting the steps perfectly.

[!!!]

The song we were dancing to was “Stay” from Dirty Dancing - the same song I had danced to the night before, by myself in the YMCA yoga studio.

As he guided us through learning the moves, he kept shouting “DANCE IT OUT!” - another moment of comfort and surprise. He was speaking my language.

And I did it. I danced my heart out. I danced like I’ve been dancing for years, as if all the practice I had put in, every single dance video, had been preparing me for this moment without realizing it.

Once I had finished dancing in the smaller groups of 4 they broke us into, I felt relieved and actually really proud. It was another contrast to how I might have felt years ago - i.e. mad at myself for not nailing every single step or comparing myself to all the other dancers.

I didn’t get all the choreography right. I didn’t do it perfectly. But I danced it out fully and showed up as myself, wild hair and all.

On the way out of the room, I shook hands with the choreographer and casting director and thanked them deeply.

Then something happened that I didn’t expect - The tattooed guy who had been working the music walked by me and said, “I really liked what you did out there.”

“Really?!” I asked, totally shocked that someone had noticed me.

We conversed a bit in the hallway and I told him how it was my first audition ever of this nature. He shared some of the “inside scoop” with me - apparently the casting director and choreographer had noticed me, too.

I was floored and almost started balling crying in that moment.

I honestly didn’t need the validation to feel good about myself. I was already in a state of being proud that I had showed up and danced and had made a new friend. But this added piece of info definitely added an extra boost of satisfaction.

After years of “doing my own thing” with dance, I had an experience in the “real” dance world - the dance world that I’ve feared and resented for years - that made me feel like being me was good enough.

I’m not sure what will happen from here, but I am so so grateful that I decided to show up for the thing that scared me the most.

And I am even more grateful for the people in my life who gave me the nudge to not back away, because without them, I certainly wouldn’t have followed through:

Sometimes we need a metaphorical Patrick Swayze to remind us that Nobody puts Baby in the corner.

So, if you don’t have anyone in your life reminding you to step forward, speak your truth, do your dance, or try something new, let me be the one.

Dance it out. The world needs you to.

You might fail, you might succeed, but what’s most important is that you dare to try.

Curious to hear what this brings up for you - so please leave a comment below and let me know.

to having the time of your life,

Jess

p.s. Thought it was important to mention that a few years ago I did skip an audition. My “dream” and desires were different then, as was my level of confidence and experience. It was more important for me then to really focus on the creative work I was building on my own. I was happy to make the decision to say no. This time it was different.

So all that to say - be true to yourself in what you really want to go for. Don’t go to the Broadway audition if it’s part of an old, stale dream you think you “should” pursue. But by all means, go if it is what most lights you up.

will I ever create anything again?

We all have had them. The dark and empty times. The opposite of prolific. The lacking-motivation-but-wishing-we-had-it moments. The get-jealous-of-other-people’s-stuff funks.

You might ask yourself:

“Will I ever create anything again?”

Here’s the answer:

Yes. Yes you will create again.

You will create something even more authentic and compelling if you just let yourself have a few minutes (or days or weeks or years) of doing nothing and not forcing it.

Instead of forcing yourself to produce something, try this:

Drop into the empty feeling.

Get curious about it.

Bring light to the icky places within you and heal where necessary.

Go on long walks.

Ask questions.

Pick up books you find abandoned on the street.

Be of service to someone.

Start a new workout routine.

Find peace in the stillness.

Why?

Because your creativity is cyclical. Just like the seasons around us. Winter happens before spring.

If you’re currently in a creative rut, take these words in and practice the art of TRUST. (Spring WILL come again, I promise!)

If you’re not in a rut, keep these words in your back pocket and remember them the next time things slow down.

Most importantly, don’t suffer through it alone.

Tell people what you’re going through. Isolation is a breeding ground for depression and shame spirals. Just saying something outloud, without trying to fix or change it, can bring deep healing through compassion.

Try it - Share something with us here, in the comments below.

to embracing all the phases,

Jess

big magic in action

Crowded F train, 10:30pm. I'm holding Big Magic (the book) in my right hand while clutching the ceiling pole with my left as I hover over seated people. A spot clears out so I slide over to where I can lean my back against the door.  

The guy standing to my right holds up his book and says "whoa I'm reading the same thing!" Then we glance at the open pages to discover we are literally on the same exact page, a chapter titled Success.

I ask him what he thought of the book and about his story. As he’s talking, I listen in awe as I imagine this human being and all that has happened in his life and his creative journey that has led up to this moment in time that our paths matched up to have this short conversation.

He is a writer and performer named Rusty who has some great ideas that he really wants to attend to. Big Magic is speaking to him. He doesn’t want that thing to happen again where he wakes up one morning to see an idea he came up with on the TV, brought there by someone else.

I didn’t say much about what I was up to, but I feel like we made a silent pact in that moment. To do our thing. To stop making excuses. To continue to be curious and open to magic.

Before he gets out of the train, I tell him I look forward to seeing his work someday.

….

And before the digital doors of this blog post close during the few minutes you and I, dear reader, get to spend together, I’ll leave you with a similar sentiment:

I look forward to seeing YOUR work someday. Not necessarily on TV or published in a book. Not by a measure of worldly success (although high-fives if it does happen that way!). But rather, in a magical moment when I most need to receive its message. Because isn’t that why we’re here, afterall?

To me, the magical moments make it all worth it.

Quoting Elizabeth Gilbert from the chapter that Rusty and I collided on:

“Do what you love to do, and do it with both seriousness and lightness. At least then you will know that you have tried and that--whatever the outcome--you have traveled a noble path.”

Be curious. Be disciplined. Be open.

Tend to the creative ideas that enter your consciousness.

Do it because it entertains you, and stop if it doesn’t.

And most importantly, don’t forget about the healing, magical force of human connection.

to letting magic happen,

Jess

p.s. If you haven’t already gotten a copy, I highly recommend Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic.