Are you **it-ing** me?

Inspirational Cat Print by Stephanie Lin Roth of SWLstudio -- click for more info

But, more importantly, are you “it-ing” yourself?

Nearly 90 years ago, Martin Buber published I-Thou and introduced a new way of thinking about how we relate to others. In “I-It” relationships, we see others as objects. In “I-Thou” relationship we recognize one another’s whole divine-spark-filled humanness.

Recently, I began thinking about our own tendencies to “It” ourselves — that is, to see ourselves as objects, to see ourselves from the outside in instead of experiencing life from the inside out.

I see this most clearly in my voice students. We “It” ourselves when we guide our singing based on an imaginary sense of what we sound like to other people (as if, from inside our own heads we could even know what we sound like to outside ears). As a voicefinder, it is then my job to hold up the mirror of I-Thou love and help them experience the sensations of letting voice move through them.

Sure, outside perspectives are important.

But using this “It” view of our work, our voice, our bodies from the outset only leads us to be cut off from the Source.

Yes, God willing, your voice, your art will go winging out into the world and have a life of its own. But in its making, in its birthing, it does no good to feel it as anything but internal to you, rooted in the core of your being.

What helps you stop it-ing yourself?

The passionate creative as symbolic exemplar

Minna Bromberg

“Really? He said that?”

That’s usually people’s reaction when I tell them that even as a singer, songwriter, and voice-finder, I have a story of someone telling me to be quiet. In my case it was my seventh-grade choir teacher who used to tell me “shut up” so he could “hear the other sopranos.”

Why are my voice students surprised by this? My students find me because my voice suggests to them that I have something to offer about how they might better use their own voices. For some, the fact that I, too, have experienced being told not to sing seems not in keeping with their image of me as a confident singer and loving encourager of their song.

More and more of us as artists, coaches, yoga teachers, makers, and creatives of all stripes are working in the world by cultivating a “personality brand” – growing (God willing, growing!) businesses based on passionately bringing our truest selves to the world.

All of this got me thinking about the “symbolic exemplar” and the pros and cons of being one.

The term “symbolic exemplar” comes from the writing of Jack Bloom, a rabbi and psychologist who wrote about how rabbis get authority as teachers and leaders, not only from our actual years of training, but from everything that we represent to the people we serve (e.g., every other clergy person they’ve ever met, Torah, the whole of Jewish tradition, even God Godself). We learned of Bloom’s work in rabbinical school because it’s important for new rabbis to be aware that when we walk into a room we bring with us not only a set of skills, strengths, and weaknesses, but also everything that everyone in that room projects onto us.

Similarly, a yoga teacher may come to symbolize “health” to her students (who would be shocked to find her eating a cheeseburger), or how a successful indiepreneur, in teaching others to thrive in business, is partly relying on how he himself symbolizes “success” and even “wealth.”

There are obvious cons to being in this position: If something happens to my voice, will my students stop trusting me to teach them to sing strongly and healthily? And as a rabbi, if you catch me having a bad day in the grocery store and I’m not able to be 100% present to you, have I impacted your view of Judaism, Jewish tradition, and God Godself?

We can easily feel trapped by what we come to symbolize.

But Bloom is very helpful here in his advice to rabbis, and I think all creatives have something to learn from his work: being a symbolic exemplar may have its claustrophobic moments, but resisting it or pretending the phenomenon doesn’t exist will only take us down a bad road.

Instead, like any other form of power or privilege, it is our responsibility to use it for the good. As a voice-finder, this means embracing my own diva self and continually trying to use the supreme confidence that others project onto me (whether I’m feeling it in the moment or not) to help them find greater confidence in themselves. And as a rabbi, to the extent to which others will always see me as a stand-in for the Divine, I want the image of the Divine that I strive for to be one of compassion and love.

I completely agree with our Buddhist friends: The finger pointing at the moon is not the same thing as the moon itself.

But if you find yourself in a line of work where people are going to be looking at your finger anyway, you may as well commit to pointing in the direction of wholeness, abundance, radiance.

The power of questions and how to find what you didn’t lose

If I had a voice what would it say? - Gwyn Michael

“Creators of any kind must find their voice. Our voice is our essence, writ plain for the world to see.”

Leo Babauta

How beautiful! We hear about this voice finding a lot, especially in writing circles. When I googled ‘finding your voice’ I got 18,600,000 results, and by chance Leo wrote a post on it just yesterday. I made the picture above and wrote about it myself exactly two years ago on my first blog. Why, I wonder, am I writing about it again? Perhaps because once again I lost misplaced and rediscovered my elusive voice.

The thing is, we all have a voice and we use it every day, but when it comes to our creative work we seem to have trouble holding on to our voice and/or vision. My last two posts were on information overload and weighing my art down with unrealistic social responsibilities. Those are two ways I lost my way and there are so many more. That this happens is not what I wish to explore, rather what to do when it does.

I discovered last week that it was the matter of a few simple questions. I spent an hour pouring over my dilemma (what is my art about?) with creative coach and fellow Scoutie Girl writer Laura Simms. An hour is not a long time when you are delving into the corridors of my mind, but Laura knows how to ask the right questions. You see, we always have the answers in us, and we never really lose anything, we just aren’t so good at asking our own questions.

When we remember, it is as if the lights got turned on in a dark room. “Oh there is my voice, how silly to have left it there. I must remember to leave the light on this time.”

Laura got me to remember that my art is my voice for stories, for conversations between my imagination and memory. I majored in Illustration in college for a reason, I wanted to speak in pictures. My pictures (and my writing) are a way to tell you what I love and what I fear, what I know and what is in the wild places of my mind. I want to show you magical discoveries I find with my camera and the layers of memories long ago and yet to be.

Enchanted - Gwyn Michael

Laura asked a lot of great questions, but the one that really brought me home was, “Tell me, what do you love about what you do?” It was then I remembered the exploring, and discovery, and the magical way a camera has taught me to see. To remember I need only really look at the work. From this place I can start over again, redesigning my website and stating my intentions. Beginnings are always good, even when they are reruns.

Tell me, what questions bring you back to yourself? Do you have someone to remind you, perhaps a coach or partner?