honoring (y)our undone 'creative somethings'


Perhaps you've heard me talk or write about 'creative somethings' before?

The term came to me when I hosted a Creativity Potluck for my birthday a few years ago. I invited friends and family to bring a creative something that they had created over the past year (my birthday is in December) and intentionally made the definition as broad and expansive as it could be – because, as I believe (and perhaps you do, too), creativity is as broad and expansive as the universe itself (or really, as the multiverses themselves!).

I also like to use that term (instead of 'art' or even 'creative projects') because I like to slightly play with words so the words themselves remind me of my original spark.

The word 'somethings' reminds me that creative endeavors can be happenings, can be moments, they can be anything as long as we bring our own playful, dynamic, sensitive, creative selves to the something.


As I've been moving through an adventurous summer and into a wide-open autumn, I've been reflecting on some creative somethings of mine that I have left undone.

The idea came to me that if I could honor them in some visible way then perhaps the weight that they seem to have could shift, transmute, maybe even alchemize?

Perhaps I could also feel less shame about leaving them undone, especially the ones that I'd invited friends and colleagues into co-creating with me.

Perhaps I could also forgive myself for not completing them or realizing the vision that I had for each of them.

Perhaps I could even celebrate them as they are, with all the bits of dust and dog hair covering them.

Perhaps I could grieve them, too?

And perhaps I wasn't the only one who has creative somethings left undone.

Perhaps there were other people carrying around undone creative somethings that they simply didn't know what to do with. Just like me. I couldn't be that weirdly special that I was the only one with undone creative somethings!

I let my mind and body play with all these wonderings.


Out came a vision for a gathering called "Half-Baked and Once Beloved."

'Half-baked' and 'once beloved' came to me as I was thinking about a partially designed cocreated publication.

I don't think it's going to be shared with the public in the form that was originally discussed (therefore, half-baked). And it was the "apple of my eye" for awhile and now... it’s not (therefore, once beloved).

For a few months, the phrases really worked for me.

But then I began talking about the idea with some of you.

And then I made these process cards and a sweet 3 minute video showing the cards with the reflective questions I have been moving with as I've been creating this offering.

I noticed how, actually, 'half-baked' and 'once beloved' feel quite judgmental and negative.

They exude the reality so many of us live and breathe:

finished = good.
unfinished = bad.

Right before the end of a podcast episode I listened to earlier this week, Bayo Akomolafe spoke the word 'undone' –

(a word that I had heard him speak before in a wild course called We Will Dance With Mountains that he and the incredibly cool people of The Emergence Network have been offering annually though they're working with different projects right now)

Undone was the word I had been waiting for.

Sure, any word can have negative or positive connotations if we let it but 'undone' invites in more flexibility and intrigue that softens any negative or positive connotations that might want to glom on.

So, the gathering has a new name. And that's not the only new thing: the idea has expanded into a few more offerings (that are not live or synchronous).

I've been feeling drawn to explore less live and less synchronous things. I've been finding that asynchronous, recorded, or written offerings can feel equally lively and connective! And really, I like to have a mix of it all.

I wonder how you're feeling right now about all the various ways of connecting with fellow humans?


Back to the topic of undone-ness, and without further ado, here's the detailed invitation for the asynchronous and written offering (the invitation to the live, synchronous offering is waiting on me deciding on the exact time and date):

An invitation to private 1:1 email support

Do you have undone 'creative somethings' hanging around that you don't know what to do with?

I want to support you in honoring, grieving, and celebrating your undone 'creative somethings.'

This support may change the weight your undone 'creative somethings' hold.

This support may offer new or reclaimed space for your creativity to alchemize.

How this private 1:1 support works

  1. You simply email me about your undone 'creative somethings' and how you relate to them.
  2. I read your note and determine if (1) I am able to directly support you or (2) you'd be served more fully by another resource.

If it's #1, I email you back with a request for payment (it is $15). Upon receiving payment, I email you my support. This support comes as totally personalized reflective questions, provocations, and opportunities that could support you in being with your undone 'creative somethings' and navigating from here.

If it's #2, I email you back a list of recommended resources -- books, people, techniques, podcasts, and more. #2 is freely offered.

I'm opening this offer up to the first 5 people who email me at cassandra@bewithcassandra.com. (Though if each and all of you who have said "yes" to being with me here in this lovely email group, I'd be excited to create space in my schedule to support each of you! No scarcity tactics here, simply inviting you in for abundant support!)

When you email me, use the subject line: "Undone Support in BWC newsletter" (that way it'll catch my eye right away).

If this invitation resonates with you, yay! If not, that's a good signal, too, right?

If you think it would resonate with a friend, relative, neighbor, colleague, you are welcome to share the invitation with them.

I'm here to be your creative partner.

I'm here to support the process of honoring of (y)our undone 'creative somethings'.

Til next time,

Cassandra