Reflections on Chapter 7 of The Artist’s Way
“Treating myself like a precious object will make me strong.” — Julia Cameron
If you’ve ever spent more time planning your creative project than actually starting it, this one’s for you. I’m on Week Seven of The Artist’s Way, and this chapter cracked something open for me: why I hesitate, what I fear, and what I’m finally learning to release in order to reconnect with my creative self.
The Mantra That Started Everything
This chapter offered us a mantra:
“Treating myself like a precious object will make me strong.”
I wrote in my Morning Pages:
“I will love, nurture & care for the child in me.”
I’ve realized that my empathy for others often eclipses what I offer myself. Over the past four years, I’ve been working to change that — to recognize that self-compassion isn’t selfish, it’s the bedrock of creative resilience.
Cameron reminds us that Morning Pages and Artist Dates are designed to quiet the inner critic and help us receive what we’re meant to create. We are vessels. When I’ve felt most fulfilled in my creative work, it’s never been under pressure. The process feels meditative — like tapping into something higher. When I gave myself the grace of time, my voice returned. So did the space I needed to create.
Listening as a Creative Practice
Cameron reframes creativity not as something we “think up,” but something we receive. Listening — genuine, sustained, interior listening — is a spiritual act. It isn’t always loud, or convenient. But it’s always honest.
Connection isn’t always a dramatic reconnection with others — it’s a gentle return to your own attention. And for artists, that attention is sacred.
On Perfectionism and the Trap of Planning
Cameron says perfectionism is a loop — a way to avoid progress under the guise of excellence. I know that loop well. I’ve built scaffolds I never climbed. I’ve made lists inside other lists. It feels productive, but often it’s a beautifully disguised delay.
College helped me break that pattern. I had no choice but to leap. That leap brought me into the honors program, and the photography department selected my work to be gifted to visiting artists — a gesture they reserved for pieces that represented the spirit and excellence of the program. That recognition validated my capacity.
But personal projects are different. When life gets quiet and the to-do list is blank, I can feel the ache of having neglected my creative self.
Just this week, while stuck on a long phone call in a quiet office, I began to write lists again. First tasks. Then, dreams. Then, I mapped out my YouTube channel — something I’ve been “working on” for months with no content. That moment broke the loop: I decided to publish my first video this week. It doesn’t need to be polished. It just needs to exist. That’s grace.
Risk as Rebellion
Cameron reminds us: risk is the antidote to perfectionism.
I’ve been scared to put myself out there with my creative project, Good Things, Good Days, which is a YouTube channel and website I’ve been building behind the scenes. I’ve worried:
“What if I look like an ass?”
But truly? There’s already so much chaos online — I doubt my quiet efforts will ever reach peak cringe.
And here’s the truth: I’ve taken scarier leaps. I enrolled in both College Physics I & II — even though math has never been my strong suit — and passed both in the 89th percentile. I’ve spoken at public events. I was an outdoor education director teaching science (and leading songs and dances!) for kids K–12. I never knew exactly what I was doing — but I learned. I showed up. I thrived.
So why is making personal art — illustration, writing — still the scariest? Because it’s intimate. But I’m done hesitating. I will take the risk. All within reason.
Jealousy as a Signal
This section stopped me.
I rarely get jealous of others doing well. If anything, it energizes me to see people thriving. But I do feel something else — frustration at unfairness. Like when someone drives around without headlights and never gets pulled over, but when mine went out, I got stopped twice in one hour.
That kind of envy isn’t about admiration — it’s about rules and control. It signaled that I might be holding myself to rigid standards others don’t even know exist. Maybe it’s time to question those rules instead of resenting them.
The Jealousy Map
This exercise turned my frustration inward — not as blame, but as direction.
It showed me that what really irks me is arrogance. But that’s a mirror. It tells me where I’m craving freedom. I realized I need more mental flexibility. I need to ask myself more often: Are these standards mine — or just inherited expectations I’m still trying to satisfy?
Archeology and SWAPS
Cameron invites us to excavate our creative roots. What did you love before you were told to be “practical”? What spaces once made you feel whole?
What surfaced for me was a longing for community. I’ve had it in seasons. I’ve built it and released it. And that’s okay. Maybe solitude is part of my rhythm too.
Still, I made a bold move this week. I walked into my local Girl Scout council office — the first time in over two decades. I’d been active as a kid, and I’ve always believed in what scouting offers.
While speaking with the executive, I noticed hand-crafted pins on the wall.
“Is that a SWAP?”
SWAPS (Special Whatchamacallits Affectionately Pinned Somewhere) were little hand-made tokens we used to trade. When she handed me one, my heart swelled. That small moment connected me to something I hadn’t realized I was missing.
I reconnected with a younger version of myself — and it felt sacred.
Journaling Invitations: Gentle Prompts from Chapter 7
If any part of this reflection stirred something in you, try exploring it further with these questions. Let your pen be honest, messy, and kind:
Listening: When did I last hear something small but true from within myself? What helped me hear it?
Planning vs. Doing: Where am I spending more time scaffolding than starting? What’s one small action I could take today?
Risk & Visibility: What creative risk am I scared to take — but secretly longing for?
Jealousy as Direction: Who am I watching with envy or irritation? What could that be revealing about my own desires?
Reclaiming the Past: What memory, practice, or symbol from my creative past wants to return? How can I honor it?
Take what resonates. Leave the rest like wildflowers in the field.
If you’re also crawling your way back to your voice, know this: it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be yours. And it’s waiting.
🌿 Milna Cultivates
Good Things Good Days — essays on creativity and becoming.
Originally published on Medium by Milna Cultivates.