The Artist’s Way Week 1 Reflections: Recovering a Sense of Safety
After spending the last year and a half deep in the world of business building, tech innovation, and entrepreneurship, I realized I’d started to drift away from the very thing that set me on this path in the first place: my creativity.
When I walked away from medicine, it wasn’t just to start a business—it was to reclaim my identity as an artist and build a life centered around expression, intuition, and purpose. But somewhere along the way, I got caught in the hustle. I began showing up more as the strategist, the founder, the problem-solver—and less as the dreamer, the painter, the explorer of mystery.
So for my entrepreneurship course this quarter, I made a choice to realign. I’ve committed to working through The Artist’s Way, a 12-week journey by Julia Cameron designed to help us recover our creative selves, reconnect with our spiritual path, and gently remove the blocks that keep us from creating freely.
This process feels like both a homecoming and a reckoning—an invitation to return to the inner well I’ve neglected, and to remind myself why I chose this life in the first place.
Each week offers prompts, tools, and reflective exercises that are already helping me unearth buried truths, soften self-doubt, and nurture my creative identity again. Below are some of my key takeaways from Week 1: Recovering a Sense of Safety 🌿
Daily journaling is important
For those unfamiliar with The Artist’s Way process, one of the non-negotiables is morning stream-of-consciousness journaling—done the moment you wake up. This has been a practice I’ve done intermittently, mostly during times of intense emotion, like after a fight with my mom or a breakup, as a way to separate myself from the energy I was feeling. I was nervous about sticking to this habit, especially since I tend to fall off routines like this quickly (I only made it two days the first time I tried this a couple of years ago).
But let me just say: the act of brain-dumping whatever’s on your mind is one of the easiest, most therapeutic practices you can do for yourself. You can only complain about people or situations so many times before you’re forced to act on it. You can only say, “Ugh, I want time to draw or paint” so many times before realizing it’s you—and you alone—who’s failing to prioritize what you really want. Highly recommend.
Often, audacity—not talent—is the difference
This week made me reflect on what separates someone living as an artist from someone who’s a “shadow artist”—hiding in the background, afraid to step into the light and claim their dreams. It's our fear of being seen that holds us back from owning our identity as creatives. No one can ever appreciate your talent if you don’t have the guts to share it.
Not everyone will understand the creative process—or a busy mind
The world isn’t built for creative, divergent thinkers. Art requires us to bypass the internal and external censors we’ve been conditioned to obey. Productivity and logic are not the keys to great art. Healing into a state of flow is—and that’s not a process everyone will understand. There will be days of high energy followed by days of deep lows. Sometimes, self-care for creatives looks different. Sometimes, it looks like sitting in a field in silence.
It’s not about whether others “get it.” It’s about how you feel as you move through the process. This is your creative journey.
Follow your sense of mystery—not your sense of what you should know more about
Let duty fall away and explore what intrigues you. Mystery over mastery leads us to unexpected places. It’s how we refill our creative well—with new images, new ideas, new places. Let your curiosity run wild in the ways your conscious mind usually tries to suppress.
It reminded me of the film Everything Everywhere All At Once, and how the main character had to do things that were completely absurd to shift timelines. Do the unexpected. And expect unexpected favors from the universe.
Avoidance of creative pursuits is a fear of self-intimacy
This line struck me to my core when I read it—because deep down, I knew it was true to my experience. When I paint or draw, it’s an act of radical vulnerability. It’s facing myself, my desires, my talent, and my truth head-on.
When I go long stretches without creating, I begin to feel disconnected from that part of me. Just like our intimate relationships with others, our relationship with ourselves requires tending. That kind of intimacy—choosing to honor your ideas and give them form—takes courage. It’s an act of free will to take what lives in your mind and bring it out into the world.
When we neglect that practice for too long, the connection can feel stagnant, distant—even unfamiliar. Creativity, in this way, is a form of self-love. And like love, it requires presence.
I’ve already come a long way in developing a sense of safety
A big theme of this chapter was claiming your identity as an artist or creative being. Much of what was discussed resonated with a past version of myself. A couple of years ago, I couldn’t even call myself an artist—I was still holding onto the identity of a medical student. I didn’t know how to honor both my past and my present, both sides of me that make up who I am.
I also felt like I hadn’t “earned” the title of artist yet. But over this past year, I’ve started owning that narrative. I’ve begun championing my own multidimensionality and learning to take myself seriously. It felt good to reflect on how far I’ve come in this healing process.
I have more people in my corner than I realized
One of the weekly tasks was to "time-travel" and write down both enemies and champions of your creative self-worth. A few enemies came to mind immediately—like a high school art teacher who told me my work lacked originality and personal style.
But when I thought about the champions, I realized every other art teacher I had before her was actually a champion. Another surprising champion was my mom. We’ve had a challenging relationship, but it’s undeniable that she’s always admired my work. She celebrates my creativity and is mesmerized by anything I show her. When I left medical school to pursue art, she literally sighed in relief and told me, “You were always meant to be an artist.”
It made me realize what a privilege it is to have a parent who can recognize and appreciate creative strengths. That’s not the norm for everyone—and I’m grateful.
Gratitude is the core of everything
This is a lesson I continue to revisit in so many forms. It always comes back to appreciation—of ourselves, our lives, and the people around us.
This chapter inspired me to return to that higher version of myself—the one who looks around with awe, who notices the minute beauty of everyday life, who sees inspiration in details and wants to recreate them through paint or pencil.
Staying in this state of appreciation is the key to unlocking creative energy.
Final Takeaway
Week 1 reminded me that creativity isn’t about perfection—it’s about honesty, curiosity, and showing up for yourself. I’m learning to trust the process, to listen more closely to my inner voice, and to give myself permission to explore. Here’s to recovering safety, one page at a time.
