The ALIA Institute ended a week ago today and I am still pondering and stirring all that I heard, saw, felt, experienced, and learned while I was there. It feels a bit like when one pans for gold; a meditative, swirling, refining process that slowly, slowly reveals the gold nuggets. If I go too fast, I might actually miss the real gold and if I stop too soon, I might be satisfied with the fool’s gold.  So as I step through the daily activities of my work, practicing mindfulness in my choices and interactions, I am noticing what is rising in my thoughts about the Institute.
 
I notice that I miss the creating/art energy that was present in so many forms. The piano music in the morning, trickling into halls of the meeting space; the graphic record of plenary sessions; the physical modeling of solutions to tough problems with clay and found objects; the theatrical performances by artists and attendees; and the constant buzz and murmur of conversations, punctuated by bursts of laughter. What I am wondering about is, “What is the gold that I can mine here?” and “Where does the practice and performance of art (in whatever form) fit in my work?” 
 
It is pretty clear to me that neither I, nor my work partners, need to be/become “artists” to bring the energy released through the practice of creation, more deliberately into our work. I have had to take steps, personally, to disabuse myself of my long held belief that being creative was something only “artists” could do. Unfortunately I received a lot of messages growing up, from teachers, family members and the culture at large, that being artistic or creative was limited to only a few very naturally talented people. My observations of others tell me that I am not alone in this experience.
 
And while I mean to take nothing away from those individuals whose life work is ART with a capital “A”, my own life experience tells me that humans are a creation making/art making species. We come to the table of life, from the earliest months ready to make our mark, so to speak. The joy and thrill of exploration and creation that I witness in my eleven month old grandson is daily proof of this truth.
 
I am going to be ferreting out the spaces in my work that are ripe for a little creative/art energy – whether that is music during meeting breaks, or graphic recording of discussions, or the chance to go outside for a few moments of contemplation before launching into a difficult conversation, or some other art/creative practice I haven’t even thought of yet. My secret hope…oops, not so secret any more... is that others will do the same and before you know it, the joy I see on baby Dillon’s face will be reflected on ours as well.