I believe in easing resistance in our work by nurturing how we practice creativity. And I believe in the magic of meaningful mentorship — guidance that sustains our connection to creative flow and allows our work in progress to unfold in an organic way. How, though, does this relate to the name I chose for my business? Here’s the story of Draft: the practice and the coaching philosophy.
At exactly 4 p.m., a text from our school district arrives, announcing the fourth snow day in a week, fifth if you count the day they sent the kids home early on account of an anticipated winter storm.
I am already resigned to the fact that O. will be home tomorrow, given the district’s track record — large flakes have been falling heavily all afternoon with no sign of a break. But the text reminds me just how far from normal this weather is for the Pacific Northwest — and how much of a transplant to this region I still am.
Bigger happenings naturally invite us to make record of them. Births, graduations, weddings, deaths — all the events that can be looked up in the archives of a newspaper. But I’m drawn to the ordinary moments, the ones that risk being forgotten, like the details in a dream. They have a tendency to blur, to fade, to merge or fuse with other memories, leaving faint impressions at best if I don’t note them with intention. Maybe it’s because they are so easily lost that they cause a certain sort of anxiety, a creative tension that wants to be unwound on the page. I’m afraid of waking up one morning with a deep sense of ordinary time spent — but no way to make meaning from my fuzzy recall of how I spent it.