Circle Up



Question 8 on the Creating slide really got me thinking this time.

Q: Who is in your circle, and why?

It’s a practical question for me. My next studio circle (and my own creative practice) starts anew on January 7, and continues every Wednesday afternoon this year.

I’d love for you to join me next week or any Wednesday. My commitment to my creative practice is weekly, and I’m here every week to support yours.

In a quiet moment before the holidays I wrote a long list of everyone I have to thank this past year, plus all the people who left me wiser, and often awestruck.

The task in Question 8 is to acknowledge each person, and seek to know more about how they arrive or appear in my circle. It’s not an inventory, it’s a diagram. Who am I choosing to keep close and who is drifting away? And, what does my circle say about my values and how I communicate.

Caregiving changed my circle. Job transitions change it, always. Loss changes it. Some people move closer, others take off on a distant orbit. Some surprise you when they show up. The circles we create together become life boats when everything else shifts. Leaning forward changes it, too.

What happens on Wednesdays?

We gather on Zoom for 90 minutes. I introduce one or a pair of the questions—sometimes we’re completing the work behind us, sometimes creating the path ahead, sometimes both at once. We explore it together for 30 minutes.

Then you work solo for 30 minutes, mics off. Write, collage, draw, use whatever medium you choose. No need for special supplies or skills. Whatever is at hand—a notebook, some magazines and glue, colored pencils. Not your phone. We love technology, obviously, but tactile is important in this studio.

We reconvene for 30 minutes of reflection. You share only what you want—a sentence, an image, a phrase. No advice-giving, fixing, or solving. The circle makes space for you to listen to your own good sense, work your own puzzle, and most importantly, choose your own metaphor. If you want advice from anyone in the circle, simply ask privately.

How it works

Working through the questions alone has value. Working through them in a studio circle can be transformative. Weekly creative practice builds momentum, provides the pace of trust needed for relationships, and allows insight to unfold. We watch your work evolve together. Eventually, you trust the circle and it is safer to bring what’s difficult, tender, unfinished.

This year, especially, you are welcome. When we are all navigating transitions, tending to loved ones, reinventing our work, renewing our purpose, and searching for meaningful connection. A circle you can count on once a week may be essential. It is for me.

Join me on Wednesdays

We meet every Wednesday from 2:00-3:30 PM Arizona time via Zoom. Join for $5/month or $50/year for unlimited Wednesdays.

Join Anne’s Creative Circle Today

January 7 is special because we start the new cycle together. But every Wednesday works. Pretend we’re neighbors and drop-in. I do not mind.

Who is in my circle?

People who show up consistently. People who witness without judgment. People doing their own creative work and willing to support others in theirs. People who understand that making art—in whatever form—is how we make sense of our lives.

I hope you’ll be one of them, some Wednesday in the year ahead.

The Completing and Creating Cycle is a framework for regular reflection and creative practice. The questions invite looking back and looking forward, with a focus on what needs completing in the current cycle, and what is arising ahead.

Something from Nothing

I’m launching a social enterprise to trade loneliness for connection one postcard at a time. My task this week: explain why and demonstrate how. Honestly, I don’t know yet. Maybe that’s the point.

Last week I felt sick, distracted, lethargic, confused. I tried making sense of this venture without much output. This morning brought a different view. Here in my writing studio—cool, empty, quiet, safe—I find peace in this small cocoon. A few sentences in, I reconnect with myself.

Recently deceased poet, Andrea Gibson, suggested we replace “depression” with “hibernation.” Fall is here, and something else is on the way.

Familiar, and Not

In the first year, The Posted Past emerged from tiny moments of inspiration that kept me alive through a grueling season. Three years ago, I shifted from arts executive to stay-at-home daughter in weeks.

I once made sharp plans, big decisions, and quickly executed on smart strategy. I excelled at drawing lines, taking risks, moving projects forward. We generated wide visibility and large dollars. Those skills served their purposes and I enjoyed it, mostly.

Now, caring for family, I’m also moving differently: small steps, quiet gestures, new ambiguities, old secrets. I’m excited to work with ephemera from the past. My aim is to attract attention to the overlooked evidence of us, and patiently appreciate all that we have been as we remake ourselves, again.

Small Things, Plenty to Notice

Every vintage postcard carries something left behind. Messages that made it, and those never sent — all since wandered into dusty collections, eager estate sales, and ribbon-tied boxes.

Upcycling this stuff makes for lovely creative practice. Remnants from earlier items that are too good to discard — an inky rose, a floral-sounding sentiment, or a detailed botanical drawing. Using these old materials draws something from nothing. We revisit these abandoned treasures (and our own ideas about junk) to feel the rush of regeneration.

We ourselves are marvelous collections gathered, arranged, and rearranged with intention (or not) over periods in time. So much is found in these second or third purposes for the past. Art card sessions can sometimes reveal those connections in your lifetime that only you really see. Then, you send it off to someone who will read into the image all they know and need.

Loneliness sometimes abaits with noise or distraction. True, but there is more. Creative practice provides for a courage that lives inside silence, grace, and patience. Making mistakes in the studio can bring sweet relief from ego and fear, and offer potent clues about what’s next.

The Posted Past is deliberately both/and. Grand sweep of time and subtle moments. Global networks and hand-delivered messages. Instant communication and patient evolution. The question isn’t big or small—it’s striking the balance that serves us now.

We’re not just trading loneliness for connection, we’re also swapping out old assumptions: that new beats old, that connection requires complexity, that everything starts from scratch. Here, in those creative tensions, we find opportunity. The magic of being in between.

I don’t know exactly how this will work, but I know why. We live with unprecedented connection and profound isolation. We can reach anyone, anywhere, instantly, yet loneliness persists as one of our greatest challenges. One small answer: work with what we have. For me, that’s a lot of postcards.

Requirements of Respite

Self-care and respite take on different qualities in times of true crisis. Maybe it’s a clue as to why I respond so poorly to the common admonitions to take care of myself. Quietly, I affirm. I do.

Most assume the concern is emotional, and it is in part. I’m aware lately that the issues are primarily physical. It is strangely difficult to eat, exercise, and sleep soundly around a person who is suffering physically. The environment is unappetizing and there is a perverse temptation to power down with them. Motivations to toil and worry are ever present. Motivations to live one’s own life require discipline.

This is a good reason to consider taking up a hobby. Craft, music, gardening, dance, or other art form works – any kind of body-based creative practice. Simple movements or minor tasks accomplished are instant balm to the common disconnections from self. Who is dancing? I am. Who made that cute cross stitch? You guessed it.

We sometimes mistake the large and visible parts of life for where meaning is made. More often, the mundane is the muck of creation. Difficulties test us, and experience is the reward. Having a creative practice is a way to curate one’s own life no matter what comes along.

That’s why I’m writing to you today and why I write every week at http://www.PostedPast.com. It helps me to be and feel alive, even (and especially) on the darkest days.

Food, exercise, and rest pair well with alive activities. Walk with a friend. Snooze in the sun with a book on your nose. Or make that special hot dish for the church potluck. Who managed to eat, move, and laugh a little? You did.