Last year at a Creative Mornings talk, I met a man who wrote letters every day and had done so for decades.
Hundreds upon hundreds of letters.
As a letter writer myself, his enthusiasm didn't surprise me. What was surprising was that he wasn't at a loss for new things to say.
He told the audience that his secret was a dictionary. When he needed a starting point, he'd open to a random page and browse the words until he had a spark.
The secret wasn't really his dictionary. His secret was his faith -- faith that one thought would lead to another. Faith that words and thoughts could string themselves together without force.
I've spent years hoarding words and ideas, waiting for perfect timing and obvious opportunities to act on them. Said another way, I've spent years without creative faith, holding ideas like I would never get another good one.
In a way, this idea of creative faith is really about surrender -- letting things rise up to the surface as they are without fit-checking them or dismissing them for lack of logic. It's honestly hard to do. I forget over and over. I end up frustrated, backed into a corner, before remembering I can choose to create from a place of faith instead of worry.
A close friend and I nudge each other along by asking what we would do if we were 10% more confident. Just 10%. Just enough to take a slightly bigger step or let in a wee bit more possibility.
What would today look like if you had 10% more faith?
More faith in you. More faith in someone else. More faith that more words will come.
More faith that the most important thing you can do is start where you are with what you have.
More faith that once you take one step, another one will appear.