Unthawing Myself

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“Do your art. Generally, a thing cannot freeze if it is moving. So move. Keep moving.” (Women Who Run With the Wolves, p. 183)

I’m slowly working my way through this book, Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, PhD. I mean sloooooowly… like a couple pages a night before I go to sleep. The subtitle is “Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype”. In each chapter she shares a fairy tale of some kind and then offers a deep dive into the meanings it holds and the implications for holding onto one’s Wild Woman within.

I’m currently reading through her analysis of the Ugly Duckling story. She expands on the exile that the duckling, I mean swan, faces in trying to come home to herself. In this version of the story, the duckling finds herself frozen in a pond. Estés writes: “Freezing up is the worst thing a person can do. Coldness is the kiss of death to creativity, relationship, life itself.” (p. 182)

As I read through this section on “Frozen Feeling, Frozen Creativity” I felt myself getting tense. I knew what she was referring to — this feeling of being frozen, of being stuck in a pond with no way out. The further I read, the more I felt seen. Not necessarily in a good way though. It was more like a good friend or therapist calling me out on my shit.

She was bringing my excuses out for everyone to see, mostly me, and I didn’t like it.

Then I got to this part: “Do your art. Generally, a thing cannot freeze if it is moving. So move. Keep moving.”

I wanted to shut the book and forget it. I wanted to tell her she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I wanted to list all the hard things I’ve had to face and manage over the last several months. I wanted to tell her: I’m in a season, okay? Give me a break!

I wanted to do all of those things. But I didn’t.

Instead, I grabbed the pen from my bedside table and underlined the sentences. I told myself I’d use these words to get me going on this essay that was due several days ago. I told myself I’d move.

I move a lot, actually. Moving is one of my primary methods of self care. When feelings overwhelm me, I go for a walk (sans dogs!). When I’ve lost track of my breath, I step on my mat and breathe with each movement. I used to run a lot, but that’s on hiatus for right now. Slower movement feels better, so I’m honoring that.

So I move, what’s the problem then? I was asking myself the same question!

The problem is there is more than one way to move.

Moving my body is only one way. Creativity, as Beth has taught many of us, is another important way to move. Whether it’s dancing, singing, making, designing, writing, gardening, etc, moving our creativity is another important form of self care. And, I’ve been ignoring this for quite some time.

Partly it’s because my mind is overwhelmed with dog care, house projects, looking into future projects, work struggles, easing back into life after a pandemic. You know, just a few things. With my mind going nonstop, I haven’t made space to move with my creativity. I’ve hardly written in the last few months. I’ve made some t-shirt quilts, but that is more of a task and less about creativity. My flowerbeds are full of weeds and pulling weeds just doesn’t have the same impact as planting new flowers.

I don’t know. I guess I’m just in a funk.

I’m frozen. And apparently this is not a good thing.

Apparently if I move, I’m not likely to freeze. Apparently I just need to do my art and keep moving.

Before I read this passage last night, I knew something needed to change. So, I looked at my fabric collection and found a stash I wanted to play with. Then I looked through the patterns I’ve acquired and decided on one to follow. Over the last few days I’ve ironed and cut and studied and laid out everything I need to make a new quilt. And I feel excited about it!

When I go to bed I think about what my next steps will be the following day. I think about what I might be able to accomplish in my down time. I consider the pattern and how I want to arrange the fabrics. I talk with my husband about it and show my friend what I’m working on.

It turns out, when I’m moving, I don’t have time to freeze over “what ifs.”

When I’m using my creativity, I forget to check my email or refresh that app. When I’m moving, I’m present. And I think that’s been the problem all along — I’ve either been stuck back there or jumping way up there. I haven’t just been here.

Funny how that works. How creating and moving keeps me here. How being frozen pushes me back or forward but doesn’t allow me to be here.

I’ve decided I’m not going to be hard on myself the next time I discover I’m frozen. Instead, I’ll gently call myself toward creativity, toward moving a bit. I may miss a deadline. I might not discover I’m frozen until my toes hurt, but it will never be too late. I can always unthaw myself. Always. 

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