Tag Archives: creativity

My briefcase is like acupuncture

by Mary Beth Huwe

For a recording of me reading this post to you, click here.

I hate to brag. I really do. It makes me uncomfortable and hot around the collar… and various other regions. So it’s not braggadocio – but just good, old-fashioned, unbiased reporting –  when I tell you that my briefcase unites people, and is a metaphor for life and healing.

Ready?

#1: She’s A Family Heirloom

Here she is. What a specimen!

The briefcase was originally my dad’s. Dad believes objects are made to be used up. There’s a lot of wisdom and carpe diem-ing in that philosophy. It also means that we are judicious when purchasing gifts for him.

This briefcase, miraculously, escaped the Dad Treatment. It came to me in fabulous, mint condition. Dad describes it as “burgundy.” To my eyes, it is purple with pink stitching. It’s as though she was, lo these many years, purchased just for me.

She was not. She was purchased for Dad, who doesn’t conceive of her as a “she.” He quite merrily used this briefcase indifferent to its having a gender. And I love that.

I love that we can both use the same item, 30 years apart from each other – but at the same point in our lives (our 30s) – and that we can see that item differently.

It’s not unlike what we, as people, can do with our inherited health and characteristics. We can have endlessly different orientations to the similarities we share.

#2: She’s Wildly Relevant in Modernity

Pockets! Flaps! Not too many, not too few!
Pockets! Flaps! Not too many, not too few!

This lady is vintage with wicked-useful applications, even in today’s world. Her pockets are the perfect size for files, my phone, my business cards, my travel size tissues. Her flaps hold an appropriate number of files, and she will not permit me to nonsensically pack her with more work than I need or can achieve. My Mac fits in there perfectly, and has the added benefit of being padded and protected.

Her “oldness” doesn’t make her irrelevant. It makes her practical. And savvy. She is tried-and-true. In all of these ways, she is like acupuncture.

#3. She’s a Head-Turner and a Heart-Cheerer

People comment upon my briefcase nearly everyday. There’s a certain neighborhood coffee shop I frequent, where strangers look up from the phones or conversations to say, “Wow. I love your briefcase.”

Friends know me by it. Contained in this baby is a world of possibility – a system of organization that can support unbridled creativity. Just like . . . acupuncture.

…

These writings are an exploration of what it means to be human – to be sick, to be well, and to heal – viewed through the lens of acupuncture and, occasionally, herbal medicine. These writings aren’t medical advice. And they aren’t meant to be the final word on… well, anything. Rather, I hope they are a beginning of a conversation you have with someone in your life. Thanks for reading! ~MBH

Clarity: A Light Within

by Mary Beth Huwe

I’ve recently had a flurry of activity in my writing and marketing work. This is rewarding and lots of fun. I create customized content and training sessions for my clients. These people are small business owners in varying industries; they are also interesting, creative, and passionate people.

One of the main aspects of work I do with these interesting, creative, and passionate people is clarity-building. I don’t mean to brag, but it’s objectively true that my clients are really good at what they do. They are so good at what they do that they simply do it, without necessarily thinking about how to communicate what they do.

In other words, they often lack clarity about the fullness of what they do. Once we start examining together what they offer and how to name that, we find good stuff… generally right beneath the surface. Since I’ve been doing lots of this type of work this early summer, clarity is on my mind.

And it reminds me of this painting:

Mary McKinley, oil on canvas
“Clouds Run 1” by Mary McKinley

This is a sky painting by the brilliant Mary McKinley. I recently sat beside Mary at an “artist’s salon,” a small gathering of artists and writers in which we talked about being artists and writers. (And we were nice to each other, which is how to distinguish it from a “workshop.”)

Mary said that, for her, painting light is about letting the light shine through whatever’s on top of it. It’s about seeing what’s underneath the clouds. So she lays down the light first and then covers it over, so that it will enliven the other colors and peek out.

Most artists, she said, are taught to apply the light at the end; in other words, they put the light on top of their clouds.

There’s something beautiful about this. Something bold that says our clarity and light are deep within us, that they are not final touch add-ons we can just schlep onto the surface.

They just don’t behave that way.