I was recently documenting my process for gatherings like Reading Hour* in ​The Studio​. It got me thinking about all the classes I’ve taught, all the classes I’ve taken and the strategies for learning I’ve developed over the years. Today I want to share a few with you.

No matter the subject, no matter the teacher, these three simple tips will help you make the most of any class you take.

Give Yourself Time to Arrive

Life is busy and we often barrel into class catching our breath, barely landing before we’re leaving and on to the next thing. Having a short and simple routine for switching gears helps us get present and available for learning. For me, it’s making cup of tea before class and having my journal and pen at the ready. For you it might be lighting a candle, doing a little stretch or taking three deep breaths. The key is to choose something that feels good to you, something you look forward to. Repetition is your friend here. Over time, this mini ritual will become a mental cue that signals, “This is class time.”

Ask a Question on the First Day

Here’s a little secret I’ve been using since university: I always ask a question on the first day of class. Why? Because silence is a barrier to engagement and the longer it goes on, the harder it is to break. Your question doesn’t have to be earth-shaking. It could be about the schedule, the supplies or even where the bathroom is. The important thing is to use your voice (or type that question in an online class). Once you’ve crossed that threshold, each subsequent interaction becomes easier. (This tip is especially recommended for my fellow quiet good girls!)

Take Five Minutes to Gather Your Learning

We all know about taking notes in class. Usually we’re diligently writing down information or instructions from our teacher or classmates. But what are we thinking, feeling or wondering? Take five minutes directly after class to write down your own responses to the content. Even a quick one-minute write before you pack up can make all the difference. This short period of reflection can unearth questions, spark inspiration and awaken possibilities you might have otherwise missed.

These are three of my go-to strategies for making the most of any learning experience. What do you do that supports your learning? What personal rituals or habits help you engage?

*Btw, we’re hosting a free Cozy Reading Hour on Black Friday in November! Curl up with a cuppa tea, a good book and good company. We’ll pull together a list of everyone’s books so expect to fill your TBR (to be read)! We’re setting up registration now. Sign up for The School of Creative Magic to get the registration announcement!

When I was a little girl, I spent a lot of time finding my own way.

This was in part the traditional Gen X upbringing of being pretty much left to our own devices but it was also the result of a family tragedy. My little brother Robbie was taken by cancer when he was only 6 years old. My parents were overwhelmed with grief, leaving my sister Suzie and I to do our best taking care of ourselves.

Being a sensitive and introverted girl meant that I found great solace in my own company, as well as in books, music, colouring, puppets, a journal and the willow tree in our backyard. When I was in my own little world, all was well. To this day I am quite excellent at being on my own and finding things to do, create and explore.

But also, being a sensitive and introverted girl, I found myself anxious in the bigger social world, where finding my way without guidance was fraught with ways of getting it wrong. The only rule that seemed clear was to do well in school, so I did that. Everything else I learned from keen observation because I was far too shy to ask.

Much of the time, this is still how I work. I remember braving my first drawing class at an art school, walking in early and seeing people putting up easels, grabbing stools. I felt that familiar sense of shrinking and freezing, wondering, “How the heck do they know what to do?” Then I watched and waited until things became clear.

What has emerged from a lifetime of these uncomfortable experiences has been my deep commitment to always sharing what I have learned in the hope of making things easier for others. For example, when I was in high school I volunteered to wear blue and white ribbons during the first week of school that signaled to anyone new, “If you ask me where the gym is, I will point you to the gym, not to the music room.” (By the way, that happened to me in first year.)

Because it has been hard for me to find my way on my own, I want to make it easier for you.

This studio, these letters, my classes, the podcast, all of these things are rooted in my desire to share what I can to help you find your way along your artistic path. In my programs and classes, I encourage my students to do this for one another. Today I want to encourage you to do the same.

Never underestimate the wealth of wisdom that you have earned in your lifetime and how a simple sharing of information might help someone onto their path, especially when it comes to art. We all know what it’s like to feel clueless, left out and intimidated by everything from classes to equipment to stores. Together we can change that. We can be the ones who generously share knowledge, experience and resources. We can be the ones who are welcoming, who notice when someone is lost, who offer intel as well as kindness – with no attachment or pressure, just the sincere desire to help.

If we all share what we learn, if we all reach back and lend a hand in this life and on this creative path, none of us will be in it alone.

I am working on a project that is way outside my comfort zone. It is taking me into the world of fabric and sewing, a world that is at once mystifying and familiar.

When I was a girl, I would spend hours tucked away in my mom’s sewing closet. I would pore over every single page of her borrowed pattern books, choosing which cuff, which collar, which length etc., I would pick for each shirt, dress, pant, jumpsuit, you name it. My mom also had piles of fabrics and I would run my hand along each one, taking in the colours, textures and patterns with delight.

What my mom could do with the sewing machine was sheer magic to me. If she and Dad were hosting a dinner party, she’d whip up an incredible floor-length gown in no time. Picture day tomorrow? When I woke up, I would have a fabulous new shirt to wear. She even worked a miracle with my 7th-grade sewing project, finishing it while I slept because I just couldn’t get the hang of the sewing machine. I never did.

Some of you may remember a couple of years back I gave it another go. With support from my sister Shannon, I found a pattern and fabric. My Auntie Laima helped me pin and cut the pieces and showed me how to use the machine. Those pieces of fabric then sat in a bag in our storage room for years!

I was pretty hard on myself for not getting any further. Then I realized the experiment had actually been a success. I had given myself the opportunity to explore sewing. I had help, I had instruction and I just didn’t want to do it. I could let it go.

There are a million creative avenues and we don’t have to take each one.

In fact, with the limited time we have on this planet, it makes sense to focus on the ones that feel like ‘ours’.

Having said that, I’ve also learned not to throw out the baby with the bathwater. There is so much I can still enjoy about traveling to the creative world of sewing. It’s a world I have tremendous love and respect for, even if it’s not my home. It is a world of beloved women in my life. It is a world of colour and shape and technical prowess, of measuring and math and magic. I give a deep bow of love and respect to those who live and breathe in the world of sewing. It is a wonder.

This week, when my project took me to a fabric store, I still found it intimidating but truly, it is a wondrous place. I could have spent all day with the fabrics, just like when I was a girl, discovering colours, shapes, patterns and textures.

Just look at the few bolts I’ve shared in today’s picture: the gentle joy of soft blue and yellow side by side, the muted vibrancy of pink and teal, the effect of white backgrounds versus black backgrounds, shapes that would be a delight to draw, the impact of scale, the way patterns take us back in time…

Looking at fabrics is like dipping your cup into a well of inspiration and having enough to sustain you for months!

Our creative projects can stretch us into the uncomfortable and unfamiliar. When that happens, remember that you can ask for support, get help and instruction. You can decide what is for you and what you can honour in others as their gifts.

Everything we create transforms us in some way. Perhaps the projects that take us outside of our comfort zone are there not only to stretch us but also to help us see that we don’t have to do it alone.

PS Special shout-out to my sister-in-law who has offered to do the sewing for my project. Thank you, Sylvia!

NOTE: Originally shared in my Letters from the Studio. To receive my weekly missives, sign up here.)

When I was a girl, my idea of summer fun wasn’t swimming or picnics or baseball or going to the cottage. What made my heart sing was hours and hours of reading (maybe accompanied by a sugar donut or two), preferably inside.

When I did my summer journaling, I realized I was longing for that again. Instead of lying on the living room rug, I’ll be on my deck with a cup of iced tea and a pencil to underline and to scribble in notes. Yum! My husband will encourage me to do some light reading, to enjoy some fiction. But inevitably, I’ll have piles of non-fiction and memoirs, most related to the arts in some way. That’s my happy place. That’s what’s fun for me.

Over the years, I’ve coached clients who felt a pull to have more fun with their work. Sometimes that’s been about letting go of restriction and perfection but often it’s about simply letting yourself love what you love.

Fun for you might be…

hours and hours at your sewing machine
late nights laughing with your friends
getting messy with your gelli plates
seeing if you can swim that lap faster
going to the dog park (dog or no)
collecting vintage jewellery
learning to throw a pot
playing cards
playing with words
playing an instrument
playing an MMORPG
researching family history
gathering floral specimens
staying in bed all day with Netflix
a romantic night with your honey
birdwatching
learning a language
dancing in your kitchen
exploring a new neighbourhood
planning your next trip
a day at the spa
a night on the town
building a database of your reading
organizing your photos
listening to music

You name it!

Your fun might be boisterous but it might also be quiet. It might be playful but it might also be studious. It might be messy but it might also be orderly. It might be relaxed but it might also be challenging.

Fun is giving yourself full permission to enjoy what you enjoy simply because you enjoy it.

I hope that this week you’ll think about what is fun for you – and then you’ll let yourself enjoy it.

Let the magic of summer begin!

When I first started coaching almost 20 years ago (ack!), I wanted to call my company The Luminous Edge. Everyone advised me against it because it was ‘too scary’. The truth is, whether I used that name or not, that’s where the work of the studio often takes place, on that tender and brave edge that takes us into the next iteration of our work, of ourselves.

No matter our level of experience or expertise, we all have a luminous edge.

It’s that place where we lean into the new and the unknown, expanding our range in every way. Each of us, the seasoned artist and the budding and everyone in between, experiences the discomfort, the resistance and the self-doubt on this edge as well as the hope, the excitement and the expansion that’s available.

To describe this in more concrete terms, I like to turn to yoga. Imagine a room full of students: some have been practicing for years and others are moving for the first time in years, some are limber, some are tight and some are recovering. You name it. Every person in that room (and in any room) has a unique body and on any day that body is having a unique experience.

Now, imagine all of these students doing a forward fold. Everyone standing, bending at the waist and reaching down to the floor. Everyone is doing the same move and everyone will be in a different position. Some students’ hands will not reach the ground, the stretch in their hamstrings registering as soon as they lean forward. Other students will have their palms on the mat, their chest against their knees. Each of these students is likely judging their efforts against the others in the room. We have learned to measure ourselves against one another in order to assess where we are.

But what if we are all actually in the same place?

What if we are all experiencing that sweet spot where our current limit meets a sliver of new possibility: our luminous edge?

When we recognize that each of us in that sweet spot is doing the same work, the work of expanding, of braving new territory, of growing our capacity, something shifts. We can shake off the norms of hierarchy and instead share a companionable experience in a room rich with wild and glorious uniqueness. We can see one another as fellow travelers and treat one another with newfound compassion and respect.

We don’t live on that edge all the time but as creatives, we will come to it again and again and again. And when we do, it helps to know we are in good company.

We are a part of a tradition of brave souls unfurling, creative spirits braving the mystery, artists willing to dance on the luminous edge.

We’re used to hearing about comparison in the context of comparing ourselves to others. Today I want to bring up a different kind of comparison, one that can rob us of years of our life: comparing where we are to where we want to be.

I don’t know about you but I have a visceral reaction just thinking about all the ways this shows up.

I thought by now I’d be…
I used to be able to….
I hate that….
What if I never…

This way of thinking has shut me down many a time and I have witnessed how often it has shut down the creatives that I coach.

I have learned to do three things in order to move through this painful comparison towards something else.

Acknowledge the truth.
Mourn the losses.
Open to the belief that even here there is goodness.

Many of us are facing, have faced and will face difficult and devastating circumstances. Many of us are facing the fact that our lives are simply different than we expected. Whatever the distance between what is and what we hoped for, if we lock ourselves into comparing the two, we can stay stuck in a loop of suffering for years.

Creativity lives in the present and, in an unexpected twist, it’s magic is strongest when it works with what is real.

Instead of losing years locked into comparing the way it is to the way we wanted it to be, let’s find the good that is available and get creating exactly where we are with exactly what we have. Who knows what we’ll achieve, experience and become on the adventure ahead!

PS This is an excerpt from Letters from the Studio, which I send out on Sundays. Join the studio and I will send these creative inspirations to you. Plus you’ll get a discount on classes, a free workshop series and more!