Seven Lessons

Weekly wisdom to level up your creative life in 3 minutes, for free.

A SHORT STORY

This past year, I stumbled upon the Seven Points of Mind Training by the Indian sage Atisha—and thought it would be perfect to share right before the new year.

Consider it a guide for meaningful reflection over the holidays.

1.) Explore the nature of timeless awareness

2.) Don’t be swayed by outer circumstances; they will continue to change

3.) Consider all phenomena to be like dreams, appearing and disappearing

4.) Don’t brood over the faults of others

5.) Be grateful to everyone

6.) Rely on a joyful mind

7.) Don’t expect a standing ovation

As I ponder these points, the last one stands out the most to me: “Don’t expect a standing ovation.”

It’s not a performance.

It’s genuinely living your own life, becoming who you are.

What humbles me about ancient wisdom is how it gently pushes us to recognize that difficulties are our greatest teachers, and the very grounds that enable us to open our hearts.

Reflecting on my own journey, both externally and internally in the pursuit of home, this, perhaps, is the greatest wisdom of all.

What small change can you commit to today that aligns with becoming the person you aspire to be in the coming year?

A CREATIVE TOOL

As we head into 2024, I’m thinking of shifting this section to be about showcasing your creative work!

I’m wanting to create more accountability towards my individual creative practice with the continued development of my piece Welcome Home and would love to share this space as a place of accountability for our works in progress.

If that is something of interest, will you reply to this email and let me know?

Also, in regards to my favorite creative tool, please check out all the amazing work we have done over the past year at HUG and apply for an artist profile today!

A PIECE OF ART

“Rain, New Year’s Eve” by Maggie Smith

The rain is a broken piano,
playing the same note over and over.

My five-year-old said that.
Already she knows loving the world

means loving the wobbles
you can't shim, the creaks you can't

oil silent—the jerry-rigged parts,
MacGyvered with twine and chewing gum.

Let me love the cold rain's plinking.
Let me love the world the way I love

my young son, not only when
he cups my face in his sticky hands,

but when, roughhousing,
he accidentally splits my lip.

Let me love the world like a mother.
Let me be tender when it lets me down.

Let me listen to the rain's one note
and hear a beginner's song.

Grateful,

Michael