Friday, 03 April 2025

This week, we learn to recover a sense of power. In this chapter, Julia shares her thoughts on anger, synchronicity, shame, criticism, and growth. Here’s what resonated with me. [All quotes are from the book.]

“Anger shows us what our boundaries are.”

“Anger points the way.”

“Anger is a sign of health.”

“We are often very angry that we feel anger.”

“Anger is useful.”

“It is action’s invitation.”

Julia’s idea that anger is an indicator of what we want—or, more precisely, what we don’t want—while also providing the energy to take action, is incredibly refreshing. This perspective offers hope to those of us who sometimes get stuck in this uncomfortable emotion. I hope I’ll remember her words the next time I find myself caught in anger. In fact, I’m somewhat looking forward to the next opportunity to apply this wisdom in real life.

The part on synchronicity resonated a little less with me. Perhaps I’m in denial about some larger truths, but I understand exactly what Julia means, and I’ve experienced synchronicity many times—even in absurdly unexpected ways. For example, I secretly hoped to find a place to stay for free in Montreal (which sounds like a lot to ask), and here I am, living rent-free in a Canadian metropolis, in exchange for some cleaning services I would most likely have done anyway. The universe provides! And I have a hundred examples of how and why this is true. Maybe Julia’s words on synchronicity didn’t rock me because I already know them so well from my own experience. However, there is one phrase I copied from that section as a good reminder:

“Possibility is far more frightening than impossibility […] freedom is far more terrifying than any prison.”

So true. I never mind aiming for the impossible because nothing is lost if I fail—after all, it was considered impossible to begin with, right? But imagining that something might actually be possible? That freaks me out. Unfortunately, I have one somewhat traumatic experience in my life where my courage failed me in just such a situation.

I was aiming for the stars. Seriously, I wanted to become an astronaut. In 2016, Germany was searching for the first German woman in space, and I was in the running. When we were informed about the selection process, we were told that the last three rounds would be overseen by the German Aerospace Center (DLR), with tests on cognitive skills, motivation, and finally a medical examination. Hearing this, I thought, “If I get through to these stages and pass the cognitive tests, there’s no reason I can’t make it all the way.” My motivation was undeniable, and I couldn’t think of any medical condition that could stand in my way. So, the competition began, and I had nothing to lose but the chance to fulfill a childhood dream. We got down to 120 candidates, then 90, and I was still in the race. The selection was handed over to the DLR, and I was overexcited as I traveled to Hamburg for the cognitive tests. I remember seeing the International Space Station fly over my head the very morning of the assessment. I smiled to myself, acknowledging the sign, went into the institute, and gave it everything I had. And unbelievably: it was enough. I made it into the final 30 candidates. That point I had previously defined as the moment when the impossible became possible, I had now reached. And then, I crashed.

The next assessment took place roughly a month later. Enough time to drive myself crazy with the thought, “What if I make it?” I couldn’t handle it and unfortunately had no one by my side who could have supported me. The price of being a lone wolf. By the time I returned to Hamburg, I was a wreck. The tests, conducted over three days, required me to focus, but I couldn’t even pretend to be stable. Not great when you’re trying to convince a panel of psychologists to select you out of a bunch of rockstar women. Looking back, I know I didn’t stand a chance against the competitors. So, my biggest regret is not having enjoyed the extraordinary setting I was in. I should have spent more time with the other candidates, who were all extraordinary—and one of whom is now a reserve astronaut for the European Space Agency. But it was out of the question, given the state I was in. So, my dream ended, and it still haunts me today.

For a long time, I didn’t understand what had happened to me. But now I do. Things got real, and I panicked. Funnily enough, it’s only now, as I write these lines, that the first German woman is in space. It took nine more years and a rich crypto guy to invite her on a commercial flight. Not exactly how we had pictured it. At least she is a scientist, and they are doing some research, but it would have been nicer if Germany had stood up for its women.

Back to the book. My biggest struggle with Julia’s spiritual ideas is that I still identify as a scientist, and these ideas don’t always feel scientific enough for me. Although I do believe there are many spiritual concepts that align perfectly with science, we just haven’t discovered the underlying principles yet.

“Never ask whether you can do something. Instead, say that you are doing it.”

Quite proudly, I can announce that I’ve started saying I’m “writing” and “doing some artistic things” when asked. :) To me, this is a big step—saying it without feeling like a ridiculous liar. I think The Artist’s Way has started to work for me, definitely in combination with the “Creativity Club” and other self-coaching practices I’ve been doing. It’s like I’m finally standing up for myself, my dreams, and my ideas.

There’s another thing I’m still a bit cautious to say out loud, but one that I’m starting to embrace with more confidence in my thoughts: Julia says that if we choose what we want to do, the doors will open. My vision of how I want to shape some parts of my future is becoming clearer. Ahem, I have the dream of having (or rather sharing) an atelier, where I’ll create things and drink coffee in the sun, talking with interesting people. Haha, writing that still makes me giggle inside. It feels like such a childish dream—what would I even create? What do I think I could possibly contribute? That’s my standard inner critic feedback for that. But it’s okay. I’m working on it. One thing that’s definitely not optional is that I want to surround myself with interesting and inspiring people. That actually became a necessity, I realized.

And then Julia hit me. In the next section, she writes about shame, and this part unfortunately resonated the most with me. I don’t think I’m especially blocked as an artist, but many things she describes reflect how I feel about... well, I’m not exactly sure what. Perhaps there are unspoken things in my family that I only have a vague understanding of. I don’t remember large parts of my childhood, and maybe that’s the reason why.

“Shaming someone is an attempt to prevent the person from behaving in a way that embarrasses us. Making a piece of art may feel a lot like telling a family secret.”

To be honest, I don’t know what the “family secret” is in my case, but I can feel shame and guilt surrounding it. And I will feel shame and guilt about the words I’m about to write because I know I shouldn’t say these things in public. Detaching myself from my parents has been a big process over the past few years, and I think I’ve finally reached the point where I can see them as the people that they are. I’ve started calling them by their names, and that’s made it much easier to view them as human beings—just as imperfect as everybody else. This shift has helped resolve the cognitive dissonance I felt between how uncomfortable I feel about my childhood and the childish image of ‘perfect parents’ and a an ‘ideal world’.

From what I understand, especially my mother has carried a large amount of guilt throughout her life. I don’t think she should feel guilty, but whether justified or not, a child always senses their parents’ feelings, and it influences how they feel. In primary school, both my older sister and I saw a child psychologist. She was considered too problematic, and I was considered too confident. I dared to know my skills, speak them out loud, and be happy about them. We’re talking about a nine-year-old girl. It was unacceptable to my teacher. Would it have made a difference if I had been a boy? Just wondering.

On the surface, my sister struggled with the school system. However, I think it’s more likely she had a subconscious grasp of the family dynamics that made her struggle. We will never know, but I think that’s what it was, and what happened next is exactly what Julia describes:

“They kill the messenger.”

Honestly, I believe parents should see a psychologist before sending their child to be “fixed.” Or at least the psychologist should take a close look at the parents too before claiming the child to be problematic. In my case, the psychologist successfully taught me that I have to—and how to—hide my feelings (I recall the exercise as if it was yesterday), planting a big seed of doubt about myself in my quite young heart. My confidence was gone. Thank you for that. I hope my teacher is long dead. And I wish my parents would have protected me.

So much for the family gossip. According to Julia, these kinds of stories can become a reason for a creative block. She advises those children:

“The antidote for shame is self-love and self-praise.”

And yes, I think that’s what it takes, and I know I’m very insecure about both. She then continues by offering a 9-point plan on how to deal with criticism and some more tasks reflecting childhood and reconnecting with what stabilizes us. In the end, Julia encourages us to take care of ourselves, to make small changes to beautify our everyday lives, or as she calls it, “babying ourselves.”

This chapter made me reflect a lot on my past—a childhood I can no longer see clearly, but whose echoes I still hear. I don’t blame the past for who I am, and I know that even if things didn’t always go smoothly—which is totally normal—it is my responsibility now to not let it affect my future further. That’s why I’m on this journey. Not only The Artist’s Way, but even every step I take in my nomadic life. And I’m happy I can say I am on my way. I will get there. It is possible, and that doesn’t freak me out any longer.