Change is uncomfortable, and change is all around.
WCIW was created to open the door to help people actualize, use, their natural creativity (for example combining two things which haven’t been mixed together before [in any field, not limited to art]). Creativity by nature, involves change, different, new.
Sometimes we have the opportunity to remain with the familiar; sometimes not. With so much change on the horizon, wouldn’t it be great to become more comfortable with its discomfort?
One way to become comfortable with change is to initiate it, to do something differently than the norm. We began a new diet in our house recently and with it came complaints, confusion, and curiosities about ways to make it work. Adapting to change is part of the creative process – and it takes energy.
If you are looking for a project for WCIW2017, consider challenging or changing one of your long time habits. Perhaps find a new way to get to work, or express affection to someone in a different way. Each of these counts as partner celebrations for WCIW.
This poem, by Sam Walter Foss was written in 1895. It shows how conformity and habits can be incrementally built. Read it out loud. Take note of the connections you make to your life and the habits you might have built up over the years.
One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And there by hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bellwether sheep
Pursued the train o’er hill and glade
Through those old woods a path was made.
And many men wound in and out
And dodged and turned and bent about
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because ’twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed – do not laugh-
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding woodway stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.
The forest path became a lane
That bent and turned and turned again;
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street;
And thus, before men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed this zigzag calf about
And o’er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent
To well established precedent.
Inspiration for this post came by randomly re-reading pages 77-81 of The Magic of Your Mind by Sidney J. Parnes, Bearly Limited, 1981. Sid was my professor at the International Center for Studies in Creativity where I began studying in 1977.