The Challenge of a Challenge

This summer, I participated in an Instagram photo challenge and posted 50 days of summer photos. Why? Good question. 

It began as a challenge to do a challenge. I’d seen lots of 100-day challenges for artists and writers but was afraid that if I did one, I’d fail. I know something about setting oneself up for failure and wasn’t going to go down that road. However, the idea of a shorter challenge intrigued me. If nothing else, it would be a good experiment. 

I chose a summer challenge because living at nearly 10K feet means summer is short. It’s almost sacred. And like a bear, I come out of my cave, and I go. I write and art and play. I spend much time with my family and cook huge amounts of food. I drink and revel and go to concerts. I hike with my dog. I boat and swim and garden my flowers. I increase my volunteer time. I wake early to write. I’m up late to art. I am a different creature. A 50-day summer challenge seemed easy enough to complete. 

It wasn’t. 

In the beginning, posting was fun! I culled my photos and found my favorites. I loved hearing from others. I followed new people and learned more about everything. But as time wore on, a discomfort emerged. Posting took time away from living in the present moment. I didn’t like being tied to my phone. It seemed too much in all ways, including the privilege it was to post photos every day. I began to cringe. I almost quit. But like writing a novel, the experience rounded itself out. By completing the 50 days, I had to sit with discomfort and trust in the experience. Posting didn’t drive billions of people to my Patreon account or my website. But I did learn from a community interested in similar work. My expectations and goals shifted. Finally, I let go of the idea of “challenges” altogether. 

I’ll continue at my old pace—posting here and there—sometimes for myself, sometimes for my work. I’ll keep a keen eye on my colleagues’ projects and encourage them on. Experiments help us grow. It’s not about success or failure. It’s about the process.  

Summer’s Over? Say It’s Not So! Okay, Go Ahead.

No one likes the end of summer. Every year I fight its demise. But once I feel autumn’s breeze and watch the way Aspen leaves transform into pats of golden butter, I surrender. September in the Rocky Mountains is nothing short of fabulous.

For me, fall brings new energy, and my attention focuses on writing projects. This year there are new starts: I’m teaching at a community college, editing more work for others, and running new workshops. However, after a summer hiatus from working on my manuscript, I’m most excited about my renewed creativity and look forward to the revision process, even if it the 77^th edition.

I recently finished reading IMAGINE, by John Lehrer. He researches the creative process by running experiments and interviewing people in diverse fields. A common denominator in his research is evident—highly successful creative people need a break.

Be gone, guilt!

The mind doesn’t function creatively one hundred percent of the time. It needs time to recharge, just like your body might after running a marathon (not that I’ve ever been crazy enough to attempt 26 miles on foot). After a rest, the brain is recharged and can reflect outside the box.

Lesson learned from my summer of fun? It’s worth it. The mind needs a rest. If you’re stuck in a rut, have writer’s block, or are too just damn tired to think, take a break. Results will happen when you return. Trust.