Boundaries: Useful in Art and in Life

For awhile now I’ve been thinking about boundaries and how they affect our efforts to create better behaviours. We may decide to eat healthier, and go to the gym more often, or another daunting project.

But sometimes our decisions don’t stick as well as we’d like. Usually because in our eagerness for “results” we set unrealistic boundaries.

Too strict is the usual culprit ~ there are so many distractions and temptations outside the boundaries we set. But without setting some kind of boundaries, our path to success is even trickier. The secret is to limit yourself in the most constructive way.

Our lives are full of boundaries. Some are physical, like our bodies, our houses, our cars, or a country’s border. We use those boundaries to say who (or what) gets in or out. We also set boundaries all the time on the behaviour we tolerate from others. If we don’t set any boundaries, others get to choose how we’re seen. But, if we build a massive wall, we run the risk of missing out on life’s adventures.

Health-wise, keeping certain foods out of your mouth is a good goal, and it’s made easier when you keep them out of your kitchen, which is easier if you keep yourself out of those aisles in the store. See what I mean? Boundaries can be your friend.

The reason I started down this thought path was because of art (as usual). I started to notice that I create more interesting art when I limit myself, either with time, materials, or a colour palette, or some combination of all three. Once I exclude the usual fall-back options, I’m forced put things together in new, unexpected ways. Not only that, but my whole brain is engaged ~ I’m not on autopilot. This is why I’m always encouraging you to try new things in class. It’s only paper. It’s only paint. If you really hate it you can collage over it. You can cut it up and turn it into a pattern. Or (gasp!) throw it away.

When I start excluding my usual options I get different, and often very pleasing, results. Most of which I wouldn’t have predicted, let alone tried if I’d stuck to the “tried and true”. In art, which is such an open field for play, a certain randomness of materials and processes can create new visual connections on the page, and can lead to other new realizations (like my sideways thought path) about life in general.

What if I can have a more interesting life by setting different boundaries for myself? What if I allow myself to try stuff I never tried before? And by “stuff” I mean exercises and food. When it comes to setting boundaries, it may look like we have fewer options than we have in art, but if we set smart boundaries and aren’t on autopilot, we’ll probably get interesting results there, too.

As you all know, I'm doing the exercises in the handouts at the same time as you are all, so I'll be posting what I write as I go. As I say when I let you look at my journals in class, what I write in my journals (and in this class) is personal, but not private. In other words, I'm not afraid to be honest, but it's very unlikely you'll come across anything that'll weird you out. So here are my answers to the first exercise on pages 5 and 6 of the handouts:

"Goals, Blocks & Solutions" 

An exercise I created for my own goal setting is to identify my goals and why I want them. Sometimes simply wanting isn’t enough. I have the best success when I also get a handle on the blocks that have kept me from succeeding in the past and giving some serious thought about some solutions, resources, and tools I can gather to help me this time around.

Even though we focus in class on the creative aspects of our journals, I encourage you to do these exercises when you get home. When we're all chatting and creating, it's really hard to pull yourself into a quiet headspace and really dig deep into your feelings about your life, and to get the most of the experience, it's really important to be as deeply honest as you can when you're writing. You never have to share in class what you write and it's *your* private journey, but it's absolutely worth doing.