I work part time in a philanthropic glass factory; glassybaby. If you don't know it, check them out. They make beautiful, handmade votive holders, and they donate a portion of their proceeds to charity. Coaching and writing are my life, but I like people, good works, and pretty things. Working a few hours a week at glassybaby gives me access to all three.
One of my co-workers, Delilah, took me aside during a break to explain that she thought she should be a writer. Truly, her life story is amazing and she is clearly artistically gifted. "But why," I asked, "do you think you should?"
"People tell me all the time that I should write." She listed who. All her explanations illustrated with what others had told her she ought to do. But when I asked what she wanted for herself, she teared up. "I don't know. I don't feel connected to myself."
Then she bravely braced herself for what she expected from me, meaning criticism or blame. I said, "Congratulations. You've just experienced how it works for you, when you try to take your own creative impulses seriously."
Her eyes widened. Progress? This was progress? Who knew?
The job for Delilah is to find her way back into that painful place, and see what is there. Why does she feel sad when she tries to connect with her own desires? Where does that show up in her attempts to work? And most importantly, what secrets must she keep even from herself, about the need to create?
In other words, how does it work?
From there, Delilah has choices.
How does it work for you?