Creativity is essentially concerned with human expression. It also involves a relationship with self and, in relationship, communicating profoundly with others.
I believe that practitioners who feel deeply about their work are heard by hurt people. This very profundity (and sensitivity) can cause both joy and suffering in equal measure.
Sometimes, in deep relationship with someone in crisis, we may experience a flow state – similar to that of a singer or actor at the top of their game, or a sportsperson playing well.
Studies in neuroscience suggest that the flow state has an almost addictive nature. That is, the more we do it the more we want to do it. The exhilaration, or the buzz, is the payoff, and it can be so strong that creative practitioners who really enjoy their job will suffer through the highs and lows of the troubled relationship to savour it.
There is a lot of personal satisfaction in creating and then sustaining relationships with people in crisis, and journeying with them as they grow. Initially there is (often) rapid change and this is fast-moving and exciting – but then the pace of change slows down and it is not as exciting or exhilarating.
This is where discipline comes in, because nothing will be achieved without the boundary of discipline.
If we are creative we may often launch into projects with great enthusiasm but have trouble staying with them to completion. We may be energised by starting new things, but existing projects can seem boring when something new attracts our interest.
And this is not okay in a project enabling change in a hurt person – where, in fact, staying on task can be a matter of life and death.
Earlier I sang the praises of the diversity of approaches, i.e. the formal mixed with the informal. But I also stressed how important consistency is.
Without consistency (and the tenacity that comes from discipline) we risk replicating the insecure attachment patterns experienced in childhood that might have contributed to the hurt in the first place.