236. The Open Palm
Image by community member Ariel J
I do struggle with daydreaming. I struggle to imagine where a practice could take me without making it some pressurized thing—without thinking that by the end, I need to have achieved a masterpiece.
Whenever I teach, whether it’s a semester-long creative writing class or a weekend workshop, I like to start with a simple ritual. We all open our notebooks, close our eyes, and trace our own hands. Inside the palm, we write a creative intention, along with encouraging words and practices that will call us back when we hit a wall. Outside the hand, we muse about where that creative intention might lead—not professionally or productively, but energetically.
I’m always surprised by this exercise. I’m surprised by how vulnerable I feel when I place my left hand on the page, close my eyes, and begin to trace. It doesn’t seem like it should be a big deal, but I feel a little out of control, and I have to resist the temptation to open my eyes and check to see if I’m tracing my hand in a way that is good or right. At the same time, it’s a little exciting, even thrilling—like I’m a kid again.
I’m also surprised by how I usually don’t struggle with the creative intention or the things that will invite me back. I often know what I’m longing for, whether it’s a more regular journaling practice or to up my painting game, as well as the things that will inspire me at low points, like writing in nature, reading beautiful prose, or putting together a playlist of my very favorite songs. But I do struggle with daydreaming. I struggle to imagine where a practice could take me without making it some pressurized thing—without thinking that by the end, I need to have achieved a masterpiece.
Just this week, in preparation for a new daily project, I found myself doing just that. I drew my hand, revisiting that childlike thrill, and inside I scribbled this intention: “I want to resume a daily writing practice.” I jotted down encouraging words (“Let the words fly fly fly!” and “Discovery, experimentation, and play”) and practices for when my energy starts to flag (“Write in outdoor cafés”).
All of this felt so good and light, so expansive and useful. And then I turned my attention to the third step—daydreaming about where this creative intention could lead, and I suddenly got serious: “Dive into a bigger project—book two.” Instantly, my whole body tensed up, and the excitement evaporated, and I realized that it didn’t line up with my intention. So I began shifting from outcome in the careerist, professional sense, to something more experiential: “pressure valve for hard days” and “liberation from perfectionism” and “experiment with new genres, like fiction and poetry.”
I sometimes find myself regarding this ritual skeptically, even though I came up with it, even though I’ve experienced its benefits! I find myself resisting, which I actually think is a defense mechanism, because I like to be in control, to be unimpeachable in a self-serious way. But I always feel better afterward. Rather than grasping for some illusion of control or muscling myself forward, I feel eager, energized, and free. In my open palm, I find new direction.
Prompt
Close your eyes, and slowly trace the outline of your non-dominant hand on a blank page. Take your time. Pay attention to the physical sensations. The sound of pen on page. The feel of paper against palm, pen between fingers. Surrender any illusions of control. Any attempt at getting it “right” or “perfect.”
Write a creative intention inside your palm. Around it, begin writing things that will invite you back to your practice—encouraging words, activities that inspire you, different ways of approaching your intention, small steps to get you closer to your goal.
Outside the hand: Allow yourself to daydream about what lies ahead. Write about where your intention could bring you. What it could help you discover. Record any new revelations and realizations, dreams or ideas that you want to carry forward.
Reflect on what happened in your mind and in your body at each step of the process, and how that awareness can guide your creative path.