Episode 6: Creativity, Joy, and the Myth of the Tortured Artist

Welcome to the Carousel of Happiness Podcast. On today's episode we explore joy and its relationship to the creative process. Are they related? How? Aren't all artists supposed to be tortured? Plus, host Allie Wagner, shares a big mistake she's already made on the podcast. If you're looking for a permission slip to follow your bliss, this episode's for you.

The Carousel of Happiness is a nonprofit arts & culture organization dedicated to inspiring happiness, well-being, and service to others through stories and experiences.

If you enjoy the podcast, please consider visiting the Carousel of Happiness online (https://carouselofhappiness.org/), on social media (https://www.facebook.com/carouselofhappiness), or in real life; or consider donating (https://carouselofhappiness.app.neoncrm.com/forms/general-donation) to keep the carousel and its message alive and spinning 'round and 'round.

If you have a story to share, please reach out to Allie Wagner at outreach@carouselofhappiness.org

Special thanks to songwriter, performer, and friend of the carousel, Darryl Purpose (https://darrylpurpose.com/), for sharing his song, "Next Time Around," as our theme song.

Transcript

Welcome to the Carousel of Happiness Podcast. I’m your host, Allie Wagner. 

On our last episode, we introduced you to the town of Nederland, Colorado, where the Carousel of Happiness is located. You learned how a town 17 miles away from Boulder, Colorado can feel like a world away, and how, in many ways, Nederland is the perfect home for the Carousel of Happiness.

And, don’t worry, if you feel like you don’t quite understand Ned, you’re not alone. Our town might be small in size, but it is big in depth and complexity. You’ll hear more about Nederland as we move through the podcast together – the town and the carousel are interwoven in such a way that we just can’t help it.

For today’s episode, the original plan was to tell you more about how, back in 2008 or so, the town of Nederland stepped in and helped Scott and his newly formed nonprofit organization, raise over $600,000 to build the carousel building and finish restoration.

And they did it in all sorts of fun ways: they held fairy tea parties and art auctions and massage-athons. Some folks made money recycling cans and donated the profits; others, like the architect that designed the building, donated their much needed (and very expensive) services. We had folks donate their time, money, expertise, and skills all to help Scott’s idea over the finish line.  

But, we’re not going to talk about that today. Not because it didn’t happen or it wasn’t important, but because last week I could feel something was off with the podcast. It wasn’t working. I kept trying to put this week’s episode together and nothing was falling into place. Not the way it had for the first couple of episodes. I knew I needed to make a change, but I didn’t know what.

And then I had coffee with Scott and our colleague, Amy Hazelwood. And, because of that conversation, I realized what was missing in those episodes. As a result of our conversation, I suddenly understood why the first couple of episodes of the podcast worked so much better than the last. And, consequently, I realized what we need to do to get the podcast back on track.

And, yes, you caught that right. I said we. You and me, dear listener, are going to make a podcast together. But, first, today’s story.

GONG

I met Scott and Amy last week for coffee at the Train Cars. As many of you know, Train Cars Coffee & Kava, is a this little cafe right next to the carousel. It’s housed in these three cozy little train cars that have been in Nederland since the 70s. 

And the cafe is super cute, they’ve got comfy couches, and a room with a piano and a guitar, where locals will come, play and hang out. You’ll see local art on the walls, and they only sell locally roasted coffee. Plus, they’ve been big purveyors in town of kava, a plant-based drink that has been used in indigenous communities for centuries to promote euphoria and a sense of well-being. And Kava cafes have been popping up all over the U.S. as Westerners are starting to drink kava as an alternative to alcohol. 

But, the reason you need to go to the train cars is, yes, for all of the reasons I just mentioned, but also…primarily…the smell of the place. You see, the train cars fry up these little bite-sized donuts all day long and the smell in there is incredible. So much so, that it’s probably caloric.

So, last week, I’m in the caboose of a century-old train car chatting with Scott, a man who single-handedly fulfilled a lifelong dream to build and restore a carousel, and my friend, Amy, who had a successful career as a dentist before she decided to leave it completely and pursue her work as an artist and community leader. She and I love to talk about the nervous system and creativity and how wonderful and magical the carousel is. Amy works at the carousel as an admin at the front desk, and she also operates the carousel too. If you come by and see a beautiful woman with a sparkling smile dressed in butterfly wings, that’s Amy.

And you’ll hear more from Amy on the podcast, so I’m going to let her introduce herself properly, but for the purposes of our story, you should know I’m sitting in an old railway car huffing donut fumes while two dynamically positive creative forces share their ideas for the future of the carousel.

And, I have to admit, dear listener, I was grumpy. Big time. I was there because I promised I’d be there, but the truth was, I didn’t want to talk about any ideas. Because when you’re grumpy, ideas and possibilities and dreams – they’re all, quite frankly, stupid. Because everything is stupid when you’re grumpy.

And I didn’t order donuts, and I should have ordered donuts, but when you’re grumpy nothing really tastes good, not even donuts. So what’s the point? 

So, I’m grumpy and they’re not, which meant I didn’t say much at first. Thankfully, as I’ve gotten older, I know better than to open my mouth when I’m grumpy. So, I sat and listened.

And I listened to Amy share some ideas about the carousel, and Scott chimed in, and the conversation flowed, as it regularly does in the carousel family, toward the creative process. 

And Scott mentioned two details about his experience building the carousel that I’ve heard before, but there was something about the way he said it or, more likely, how ready I was to receive them, that made them resonate differently within me this time. You see, the words he spoke weren’t new, but I felt their meaning in a different way than I ever had.

Scott reminded me of how fun the carving process was for him. When he started working on the carousel he was doing it for himself. Yes, ultimately, he wanted to share his creation with others, but the process of creating each animal was just for him. It was fun. It was relaxing. It brought him peace and calm and steadiness when he needed it. Scott would go out into his shop to carve at night, not because he felt like he should. Not because he was trying to get his 10,000 hours in. Not because he set a New Years Resolution to do it. He went out to the shop to carve each and every night because it just felt good. The work allowed him to use his hands. It allowed him to work on something tangible. Immediately in front of him.

Because, remember, at the time, he was working at home for Amnesty International all day long. Everyday, he was poised to write letter after letter after letter at the drop of a hat, no matter what time it was, immediately on behalf of those being tortured halfway around the world. In the 80s and 90s when he’s working on the carousel, he wasn’t in Vietnam anymore, but he was still very much engaged in work that was equal parts challenging and satisfying. And having something tangible like a piece of wood, something that would allow you to see, day by day, how progress is being made, was a very satisfying counterbalance to his day job.

So, during the creative process, during the creative act of building the carousel, Scott was not focused on anyone else. He was doing it because it feels good to him. 

And, as soon as he reminded me of that, I knew what was missing with the podcast. Not necessarily in the first couple of episodes, but the last two. I gotta tell you, dear listener, I made those for you. Not for me. I made those episodes the way I did because I thought that’s what you wanted to hear, I thought that’s what you should hear. I didn’t make those episodes for me.

And that’s what was wrong with them. There wasn’t any spark to them, any joy. In the first couple of episodes I was following my own interest, I was following my curiosity, I was following my own breadcrumbs. Just like Scott was.

But I didn’t realize at the time. When I was making those first episodes, it just so happened I was reading a book on the nervous system. Some of the ideas that made it to those early episodes were as a result of casual conversations I had with family or friends at the time. 

And, as such, those first couple of episodes felt like they “fell into my lap,” as opposed to the last two, that felt like pulling teeth.

And I could feel it. I knew something was off, but I went ahead anyway.

Why? 

Well, these episodes do come out weekly, and this is my job. But, more than that, I think I got caught up in what I thought you wanted. What I thought you expected. And, as a result, there wasn’t really any “me” in them. There wasn’t any of what excites me, lights me up, in those episodes. 

Because I was raised in a household where you did what your parents or teachers told you to do, even if it didn’t feel right because that’s just what you do. That’s life. You do things you don’t want to do because life is hard and that’s it.

And, as a little kid, everytime I did something for someone else, I was praised. I was called a good girl. I was called a team player. They gave me ribbons and stuff.

And slowly, gradually, over time my own inner guidance eroded. The lines connecting me to me got garbled with all sorts of static – other people’s opinions, expectations, what they wanted from me, etc...

But that isn’t what the Carousel of Happiness is about. That isn’t how the Carousel of Happiness got built. The Carousel of Happiness came about because Scott was given an idea specific and unique to him. And then he followed fun step after silly step, after curious step. One by one. Scott enjoyed the process of making the carousel. He was doing it for himself. Sure, he wanted people to ride it eventually, but on those January days when he’s wading through thigh deep snow to get out to his workshop, he’s not thinking about you or me.

He’s thinking about himself. And how good it feels to carve animals. How good it feels to work with his hands. Period.

And, as a result of following his own bliss, he created something for all of us.

Sit with that for a second. By doing what felt good to him, what felt natural, what felt easy, Scott created something that has meaning and value for all of us. 

We waste so much time as human beings doing things we think we should do or what people want us to do, when I believe the real service, the real juice, the real magic that we offer to the world comes easy. It’s fun. Is tailored so specifically for us that it almost feels like we’re cheating.

Because it feels like these days we equate suffering with service. We think that in order to help others, we must sacrifice ourselves. No pain, no gain, right? It’s the message we see on the news, it’s the message we hear from our teachers, it’s what the hustle culture leads us to believe. If we are going to make a difference it’s going to be hard. And it’s going to be unpleasant. 

But, what if that weren’t true? What if we came to this earth absolutely and completely perfect? What if we were given the exact skill set we need to accomplish and experience everything we uniquely want in this lifetime? What if we knew there weren’t any mistakes; there weren’t any accidents? What if we knew that what came easiest to us, what we loved most in the world, would lead to our legacy?

It is my belief that our greatest contributions in this world can be easy. They can feel good. I believe in service and art that fuels the creator first. That allows whoever is making the thing to fill their cup up first, and then allow the excess energy to flow to others.

That’s what happened with the carousel. Scott healed himself through the act of carving animals, and then allowed his energy, his life force, to spill over for the rest of us to enjoy.

And, as a result, doors flew open for him. Synchronicities were everywhere. People came out of the woodwork and bent over backwards to help him. Because he was in alignment with his highest and best self. He was doing what he was brought to this earth to do.

Scott has said of those times, it felt like the carousel was happening to him. Not because of him. It felt like he was dancing with an energy larger than himself.

Which leads me to the next reminder Scott gave me at the train cars last week. He said that looking back on it all, so many details tied together perfectly. So many elements of the carousel were imbued with meaning that he didn’t necessarily intend at the time.

The same thing was true for me in those first couple of episodes of the podcast. Those details tied together so beautifully, but, I have to admit, it wasn’t me. I didn’t make those connections until they were staring me in the face. I had help.

So many times with art, we want to know what something is before we begin. We want to know because we’re human and the unknown can be scary. And, in my case, the unknown could result in not having an episode for the week.

So, I tried to predict. I tried to game the system. And, in doing so, I dulled a bit of the magic. In the first couple of episodes I was using any and everything in my daily life to understand Scott and the impact of the carousel. I was using details from books I was reading at the time, I was reaching out to interview people I found fascinating, and I lost a bit of that magic.

Because I was afraid it wouldn’t persist. I was afraid the well would run dry if I didn’t micromanage it. 

But no more, dear listener. We are going to do things a bit differently from here on out. The truth is, the intent of this podcast isn’t to bring everyone up to date on the history of the Carousel of Happiness. The intent of this podcast is to explore and examine the ripple effects of the Carousel of Happiness. How Scott’s work of art is, to this day, changing the lives of others

Including mine.

So, next week, I don’t know what the podcast will be about. I don’t know because I am committing to not knowing. I am committing to being curious and following my own interests and reporting back to you. And I am trusting that if the creative process felt good for Scott, and that what he created had such an impact on others, that the same will be true for me.

And for you, dear listener. Because we’re doing this together. You, just by listening to this, are part of the podcast, part of the ripple effect. I encourage you to listen to this podcast and trust your inner guidance. If your inner guidance tells you to do something, like call a friend or write a book. Trust that. And if your inner guidance encourages you to reach out to me with a story you’d like to share, please do that. Because, that’s how we can create something new together. Something special. Something we’ve never seen before.

Like a 1910 carousel filled with handmade and original animals.

So, this week, I encourage you to follow your inner guidance. Follow your fun. Follow your excitement and see where it leads. 

And I’ll do the same. `

In the meantime, take care. Be well. And, as we like to say at the Carousel of Happiness, “don’t delay joy.” And we’ll see you next time around.