I want to remain open, always a beginner and explorer, but one who knows I have decades of experience to guide me. I leave space to allow magic to happen. I want to serve both the craving and the pouring out in myself and bring it out in others.
Thirsty, but never parched.
Thirsty, but never parched.
Part of being generous is allowing oneself to fill up and to pour out at the same time. My life has been about this tension—the thirst and the pouring out. It's been true in my relationships and in my work, and so has collaboration. I thrive on it, whether I'm collaborating with a client, with the details of a story or with clay, I embrace the intermingling of ideas and effort.
I love the creative process of graphic design. I love the exploration of words, the transferring of memory to keystroke. And I love the malleability of clay and how I can move a thought into form. None of these emerge fully formed—no design, no book, no piece of art just springs up. Some are more ready to be born than others, but the process is an arc and it takes collaboration and commitment—the thirst and the giving.
Finally, part of being human is being of service to the idea, the cause, the people; so I crave projects with others who want to serve, by exploring ideas, learning about who they are at the same time we set goals and a vision for the project. I'm always thinking, "How can I be of service to them? How can I best serve the project?” As a highly intuitive person, I listen carefully to what is said, but also to what is NOT said, to help add depth and understanding to the process.
Whether it's a massive project like the reports I've created for the Cherokee Preservation Foundation (I've worked with this amazing group for the past 11 years) or a short story that I'm writing for myself, I want to remain open, always a beginner and explorer, but one who knows I have decades of experience to guide me. I leave space to allow magic to happen. I want to serve both the craving and the pouring out in myself and bring it out in others.