Ever since I read Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, I have taken a lot of what she said to heart. The purpose of the book was to discuss the perspectives people take on their art and creativity.  One of my favorite things that she wrote about was Tricksters and Martyrs. 

When I was a little girl I got it in my head that nothing was worth doing unless it was a trial.  Many people worship at the altar of suffering, telling me that I should put my head down and work hard and practice until my hands bleed.

I was so convinced of this, I would try to talk people out of complimenting me on things that weren’t terribly hard for me.  I would complete things to my satisfaction, little doodles or whatever and would get abashed when people liked them.  Many things I never even showed anyone.

I realized that I had been requiring a certain amount of suffering from myself before I would accept art as passable. Then I would resist doing art because I didn’t want to suffer.  I would then beat myself up for not doing any finished pieces while drawing mopey sketches in my sketchbook.  I was allowed to not suffer for sketches.

So a couple years ago I decided I would allow myself to accept any piece of art I did, regardless of how tiny or unworthy.  I started posting odd doodles onto my instagram because I was going to be proud of what I finished.  I love showing people my work, even if it’s weird or misunderstood.

I would tell myself that it was good enough.  Whatever I did was good enough, and it was more than I did the day before.  Then I read Big Magic and listened to Elizabeth Gilbert talk about Martyr energy and I realized that I had been acting like a huge martyr at the altar of my art.

Martyrs are paladins, worshiping suffering, doing everything for, to, at someone else.  They live for others, dedicating their lives to causes, and die for their principals.  It is the opposite of fun.  It is painful, destructive, and causes resentments and poisons relationships and sucks happiness from the very air.

Martyrs do not accept reality as it is, they are always trying to change it to fit their principals. They do not have faith in the world. They do not trust in the future.  They do not live in the present.  Every day is a battle, with them beaten and bloody, a grim smile on their face.

What that meant for me and my art was that I was unable to force myself to suffer like that.  I thought that good art came from long cramped hours going cross-eyed, delving into your torment to communicate the truth of existence.  Anything less was an embarrassing waste of time.

There are three motivations in life.  There is the motivation to achieve mastery, the desire to win, and the fear of losing.  I have discovered that my driving motivation is to win.  Now, I had created a state for myself in this suffering-is-worth paradigm that was unwinnable.

I would never be able to create something good enough to satisfy myself, so why even try?  Looking back it’s obvious why I stopped making art for years at a time.  It’s really amazing that I ever picked up a pen again.

So I came up with the idea that anything is good.  Whatever I decided to make was worth my time, because it was time spent in the act of creation.  I had brought something forth into the world that would not have existed otherwise.  That’s worthy.  That’s beautiful.

Well, when I read about Martyrs in Big Magic, she also talked about it’s opposite.  Gilbert described the Trickster.  And it very much appealed to me, because the Trickster has way more fun.  For every drop of blood, sweat and tears the Martyr sheds, the Trickster has a laugh and a wink.

Where the Martyr tries and tries to change the world, the Trickster steps lightly through life.  Where the Martyr regrets, the Trickster forgives, learns, and gives a shrug.  Where the Martyr judges, the Trickster asks for more.

The Trickster takes pleasure in existence, steps confidently into the unknown and always finds a way.  In developmental psychology, they call that state one of “Hope.”  Hope is the perspective of there being many solutions to every problem, and belief that you’ll always find your way to your goal.

In telling myself I could achieve a “win” very easily, by drawing nearly anything, I gave myself hope.  I lowered the bar, I gave myself some grace, and found myself drawing nearly every day.  I channeled the energy of the Trickster.

It has served me very well, and my work has grown more complex and I’ve learned so much about my preferred medium as well.  It takes many hours of practice to do well at a skill, and a lot of those hours are going to be spent in dedicated practice, not necessarily in masterpieces.

The problem with the Martyr point of view where only masterpieces are worth anything, is that it prevents the shoddy work that could do the work of building my skill to that point in the first place.  Like they say, being sort of bad at something is the first step to being sort of good at something.

Now that I have a word for that feeling of lightness, of cheerful peace with the universe, of cheeky winks and sly smiles, I think I want more of it.  I want to raise an eyebrow and ask myself “Guess what I can do. You’ll never believe it.”

The thing about trying to control myself, is I need to use the way of the open palm.  Squeezing, pressure, it’s like crushing a butterfly.  The more acceptance I use, the easier I can breathe, the more willing I am to listen and learn and make better decisions for myself. 

So this year I dedicate it to channeling Trickster Energy in all things.  I will create, work, love and live with an open, trusting heart and a wink and a smile for everyone, including myself.