A memory popped up on my socials this week that made me laugh. Not because it was a funny memory (it really wasn’t) but because time has a way of putting things into perspective.
Five years ago, I was standing on stage delivering my first large-scale interactive workshop. A workshop that took me two whole years to say yes to (thanks for your patience Katrina) and was more “shut your eyes and hope for the best” moment.
Up until that point, my workshops had been small. The whole vibe was quiet, reflective, introspective, and, well, still. If you’ve been to one of my workshops any time since then, you’ll know that’s most certainly NOT my vibe any more!
In the lead-up to the event, I was worried about not just how, but if art therapy would translate at scale. As a professional therapist, I was very aware that a fundamental part of my job as a facilitator is to keep everyone in the room safe and creative exploration can go deep. I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to do that.
There were more people in the room than I’ve ever worked with before, participants were joining online, there were weird restrictions in place (thanks Covid!), there was potential for industry backlash at doing something so radical, and to add to the complexity I had entirely over catered for the interactive process (I may or may not still have most of those construction supplies in my garage!).
Of course I shouldn’t have been worried. As we began the interactive activity, the room erupted – noise, energy, playfulness, laughter, and absolute joy filled every corner. After a long day of sitting and listening, participants were connecting, sharing, and entirely engaged in the process. There were so many conversations I couldn’t get them back to finish the instructions.
Looking back, I laugh at how worried I was that all that noise and energy meant people didn’t get anything from the creative process. Now, when I’ve lost control of the room because everyone’s too busy talking to each other to notice me, it’s my measure of a highly successful workshop.
That workshop, as many challenging situations do, showed me something profound. That with the right guardrails, this wasn’t a gimmick; it was a shift in how I could work. That I could give people a different way to reflect, to notice where they’re at, and find their own answers. Making a difference doesn’t always mean deep therapy work. Sometimes it’s the small, preventative moments that carry just as much weight.
I still get that nervous flutter every time I try a new material, a new format, a new room and I think that’s exactly as it should be. Being challenged and growing isn’t a threat to our wellbeing; it’s an important psychological need.
I’ve got some new collaborations coming up that are pulling me right back int that “I have no idea how this will land” territory, which makes this a timely reminder that the good stuff lives in having a go, not having all the answers.
I’d love to hear about a time you’ve experienced the joy of something landing better than you expected. Or a time it took you more time than it should have to say yes.
Bel x
Every Sunday afternoon, Bel sends the Ignite community a personal note of encouragement – reflection, inspiration, stories, and sharing. It’s our way of helping you prepare for the week ahead. Add your details here to receive Here’s The Thing in your inbox.