About Maeg Yosef

Maeg Yosef is an artist, illustrator, and writer living in the Happy Valley of Western MA with her husband, stepdaughter, and son. You can find her writing about art-making, kid-raising, and creative living on her blog,
Edison Rex, and see her artwork here. When she's not working to inspire you through her writing or bring you joy by putting art on your walls, you'll probably find her up way too early, drinking way too much green tea, and attempting a wild new yoga position. Or maybe just on Twitter or Facebook.

June 28, 2012

Flakiness: Breakfast of Champions

I’ve always taken great pride in doing what I say I’m going to do – even if it no longer makes sense, even if I start to wish I’d said no in the first place. To do otherwise would be…flaky. And I hate flaky.

But, as I wrote to a friend recently, I’m creating a new relationship with flakiness.

I’ve realized that the ability to change course isn’t a hallmark of unreliability; conducted gracefully, it’s all about freedom and flexibility.

I’ve taken stock of all the areas where I place my energy and found that some of them just aren’t getting the results I want. And more importantly, they aren’t making me feel the way I want to feel: free.

I’ve been steadily clearing out those projects and promises from my life, but before I let each one go, the taskmaster voice in my mind whispers, “Tsk tsk, so flaky of you! You said you’d do this daily/indefinitely/until you succeeded…”

It’s tempting to hang onto that strange comfort of commitment and staying busy, but in the end it feels far more exciting and freeing to let go.

To that end, I’ve been slowly dismantling my small business over the past few months.

I woke up to find that I resented working on top of my other work, and that the thing I’d created in order to feel free was weighing me down, was preventing me from being present to other aspects of my life. Not only that, but I’d gotten myself tied deep into a business model that wouldn’t, even upon success, create the kind of life I truly wanted.

Letting go in that situation seems like a no-brainer. But charting another course is hard, especially when I confuse freedom and unreliability, or have connected some of my personal identity with my work.

So I let go piece by piece, responsibly, and with grace. With each letting go, I checked in: does this feel right? And it did. So I kept on.

I know there’s a path to what I want out there for me, and I’m clearing space for it. In the meantime, I’m chasing the feelings of freedom I desire through sunshine, adventure, beach trips, and snuggling my son. In short, I’m taking a break.

This will be my last post for Scoutie Girl. I’ve loved the opportunity to write here and commune with all of you. Thank you.

Before I go, let me offer my parting shot:

Are there things in your life you want to let go? What’s holding you back?

Are you getting what you want from your endeavors? Are you feeling the way you hoped to feel?

If not, what can you change?

With lots of love,

xo Maeg

Filed Under: Creative Call to Action, Plot Notes Tagged With: , , , , , , 5 Comments
May 31, 2012

On Trust.

Not so long ago, I went to yoga in the midst of a stressful morning. Late, rushed, hectic, juggling.

The important thing is, I got there.

I crept in quietly, and gently unrolled my mat. My fellow students were on their backs, in the middle of some leg exercise I’d never done before. But in this particular class, I expect new and unfamiliar.

I lay down on my mat and followed along. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know why I was doing it.

I was there, moving my legs, looking at the ceiling, in yoga class, and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly everything from the morning melting away. Or rather, released. Wow. Why was it so easy?

Then it came to me: I love yoga, I love this practice, because I trust it. Implicitly. I’ll try nearly any pose, any chant, any breath, any exercise to see what happens.

And I believe that no matter what happens in the practice, I will learn something from it. I will be happy that I showed up.

I can come to my mat and go into mental and emotional freefall because I know I will be caught. I may go through the day feeling like nothing more than a bundle of atoms held together by the force of attraction, but I know that in yoga I can let go and I will not scatter. I trust.

I realized, as I moved in and out of poses, what a vital and necessary thing it is to have places of complete trust.

Tension releases. Hackles go down. Jaws unclench. Defenses, gone.

Trust allows release and unbounded creativity. To see and be seen, completely and clearly.

We need trust, as makers, in order to create our art.

Where do you find spaces of complete trust?

xoxo Maeg

Filed Under: Creative Call to Action, Plot Notes Tagged With: , , , , 6 Comments
May 3, 2012

dieting in the information age

Last week, for the first time in my life, I went on a diet.  And, to my surprise, I loved it. It was only a week long, but as soon as it was over I started to miss it. In fact, I think I may go back.

No, I didn’t drink green juice for a week straight (although I’ve heard that can be exhilarating). There was no carb or calorie counting involved.

Instead, I went on an Information Diet.

Last month here on SG, I talked about having the unplugging bug, about wanting to dial down my information input and output. Many of you pumped your fists in the air and said, “Me, too!” This post is for you. We’re taking it from the philosophical to the practical, baby.

Here’s how I did it. For one week, I…

…checked email only twice a day, at predetermined times (at lunch and just before dinner).

…only looked at websites if I was going to immediately act on the information I was looking for. This means yes to checking movie times on date night, and no to aimless blog reading.

…read books, but only an hour or so of fiction before bed. This means yes to trashy novels (yay!), and no to that stack of business books or newspapers. Seriously!

…watched a little TV, but only an hour or less per day of pure entertainment. This means no news, unless it’s the Daily Show!

…unplugged from social media. No status updates. No Instagram (pictures are information, too)! No blog reading on my lunch break. No 140 character bytes of info coming or going.

…unplugged my ears, too. No podcasts or TED talks while I worked. But as much music as I wanted, of course.

Note: I modeled my Information Diet after the one found in The 4-Hour Workweek by Timothy Ferriss, which I highly recommend.

I’ll admit, there were a few minor deviations. I chose to read the Sunday paper, mainly light stuff, because that is a leisurely weekly ritual I hold dear. And I read fiction in the mornings, too. At first, holding to this diet was hard – waiting to read Danielle Laporte’s Fire Starter Sessions, letting my blog reader fill with unread posts, and not posting a single cute thing my son did to Instagram – ouch!

It amazed me to discover just how much information I took in on a daily basis that I did not need, yet had grown to depend on in order to feel smart or productive.

It amazed me to discover how compulsively I filled small moments with that information. Quiet times with my son, my lunch break, early mornings and just before bed.

But as the week went on, I felt the cleanse. A colonic for the brain. I felt vast spaces in my mind begin to open, fertile ground for fresh ideas, a deeper sense of calm and satisfaction. I began to feel more present with those around me as I stopped poking icons on my phone or sticking my nose in a business mag. I am there for the things and people right in front of me.

Here’s my creative challenge to you: Make more space in your mind for the important things by embarking on an Information Diet.

I’ve laid out some simple guidelines above to get you started. In essence, the diet is just this: immediately actionable information only, a little pleasure reading, and little pleasure TV. Try it. Stay with it. Start tomorrow, and then go for six days after that. I’d love to hear about your experience here!

A week really is enough to experience some cleansing. And hey, all that information will still be waiting…you just might not be interested anymore.

xxoo Maeg

Filed Under: Creative Call to Action, Plot Notes Tagged With: , , , , , , 6 Comments
April 5, 2012

The Unplugging Bug

Unplug sunday

A disproportionate number of conversations in our home start like this:

Me: “Honey, I heard the most amazing TED talk today!” (or podcast, audio book, interview, etc.)

My Honey: “Oh. Really?” as he subtly backs away, looking for an escape route from the onslaught of unrelated but fascinating facts, stories, and anecdotes that is sure to follow.

Now, let me be clear: my husband is a good listener. The best, in fact.

I’m quite the listener myself. I am constantly taking in information. Absorbing input. Learning and listening while I work and go about my day.

I can tell you the best time of your cycle to ask for a raise (ovulation – your communication is at its best), I can lay out a zillion different (and conflicting) Twitter strategies that I’ve never implemented, and I can tell you more than you care to know about the differences between the right and left hemispheres of your brain.

It’s not just what I listen to. It’s piles of books, magazines, and my Google reader. It’s emails from friends and readers. It’s beyond words – as an artist, I’m also constantly taking in visual work by others.

I’m a sucker for output, too. My hand compulsively reaches for my phone to Instagram every sweet moment of my life (I have a two year old, so there are many). I write. I draw. I paint. I’m in constant real life conversation with my loved ones.

I love learning, and I love making connections with other people, in real life and online. There’s nothing quite like hearing that something I’ve written or drawn has made someone else’s day better. And there’s nothing quite like discovering something that brings a tiny epiphany to my brain.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with input and output.

But there is just one thing missing from all of this.

Silence.

Space.

Room for fresh ideas to be planted and grow.

Earlier this year I began unplugging for one day a week. No phone or internet or Netflix-streaming. No input or output outside of ‘real life.’ It required some planning each week, but it’s been so worth it.

I’ve got the unplugging bug. I want more.

Because I’ve realized that it’s not just about the technology. It’s about the information. It’s about the chatter.

It’s about having the same deep conversation every few days with my husband about the certain changes I’d like to create in my life, without getting any further clarity about how to sort them out and implement them. Because talking will only get me so far. There’s no space for the answers to come forth.

It’s about taking in more business or personal development information than I could possibly implement, from more business or personal development gurus than I could possibly name.

It’s about not taking time to examine my trajectories in life. Am I acting out of pure momentum and habit, or am I acting out of deep, unadulterated desire?

I’m on a quest for quiet. More space for the unknown to appear. Dialing down the earbuds, the stack of books, the screens, the email, and even (heavens!) the Instagram.

I think this has implications for my creativity – and yours – on all levels. Life, work, art.

Outside the sphere of anyone’s influence, what is important to us?

What does our work look like if we are not creating for anyone but ourselves?

What dreams do we not even know we had…if we have some space to dream them?

What thoughts emerge if we take a break from imbibing other people’s thinking?

What comes from a day unplugged and unfettered by chatter?

How does a sweet moment feel if we don’t record it?

What’s does completely free, wordless, and quiet time feel like?

This is my experiment. Does it speak to you?

How do you create space in your life for your own deep thoughts and voice (or total wordlessness!) to appear?

xxoo Maeg

Filed Under: Creative Call to Action, Plot Notes Tagged With: , , , , , , , , 16 Comments
March 21, 2012

Be terrible at something.

Once upon a time, in an art class far, far, away, I was asked to draw an apple. As realistically as possible.

Instead, I drew a poop floating in a toilet. A modern post-apple, you could say.

My professors took it in stride. “Fancying yourself a conceptualist, eh?” they wise-cracked. They gave me some tips to make my piece even more out there, to really lean into the ridiculousness.

But deep down, I wasn’t trying to be a conceptualist, or ridiculous.

I was just really, really scared of drawing an apple.

I wasn’t a realist painter then, and I’m not a realist painter now. Deep down, I knew it would be hard to draw that apple, so I found a clever and memorable way to skirt the issue entirely.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I was afraid to face the gap between what I could do and what I couldn’t.

Thing is, growth demands that we face that gap, and cross it.

The bridge-building and gap-crossing process can be pretty messy, strewn with false starts and frustration. And ugly apples.

You will suck at something before you excel. Unless you’re a savant, that’s just a fact of life.

I’ve heard it takes ten thousand hours to master a skill. So why would we chastise ourselves and stop if we don’t get it in ten? Or even a thousand? Why would we let being terrible in the beginning stop us from mastery?

Celerate being terrible. Revel in how much you suck. It’s a sign you are well on your way to being a master.

If I had been aware of my fear twelve years ago and overcome it by drawing that apple anyway, maybe I would be traveling the world, kicking ass in international photo-realist apple drawing competitions. Who knows?

What’s your apple? What’s one thing you could start doing now in order to bridge that gap?

(And how do you like those apples I drew at the top of this post?)

Here’s to building bridges and crossing gaps,

xoxo Maeg

Filed Under: creating action, Creative Call to Action, creative thinkers, Plot Notes Tagged With: , , , , , , , 9 Comments