019: Hitting the creative sweet spot
Finding flow through opposite forces
Do you have the discipline to be a free spirit?
Gabrielle Roth, founder of the 5Rhythms movement practice
When I first heard this question in a movement workshop, something clicked into place. For me, Roth’s insight reveals a central paradox in creativity, one I’ve been sitting with recently: integration creates more aliveness than choosing sides.
But the insight I had in the workshop revealed something further—the practical mechanics of how we need to let opposing forces dance together in service of creating something.
Last week, I wrote about the ‘fizzy energy of possibility and excitement’ that emerges when we refuse false choices. What I discovered on the dance floor was how to access that energy reliably through integration that happens sequentially. It involves letting different archetypal aspects of ourselves take turns in the spotlight rather than trying to embody everything simultaneously.
The archetypal ‘team’
In the creative process, we need to draw on distinct archetypal energies.
On one side, we have the Fool, the Trickster, the Adventurer: the wild mind that generates, explores and plays. On the other, we have the Architect, the Scholar, the Editorial Critic: the disciplined mind that shapes, refines and serves.
Most of us have learned to choose sides. Before I developed my current approach to writing (which I’ll outline below) I thought that Natalie Goldberg, the author of Wild Mind, had it all wrong. To me, generating formless pieces of free-flow notes didn’t feel like ‘real writing.’ Instead, I jumped straight to the seriousness of structure, missing out entirely on all the gifts and possibilities brought by the Trickster: shapeshifting between ideas and opening spontaneously to the sheer joy of expression. The cost was writing that came ‘from the head’—in my novel writing as well as my academic writing; writing that is buttoned up and rigid, lacking juice and the richness of what’s in my heart and soul.
But different problems emerge for the creator who tries to be both wild and disciplined at the same time: overwhelm and confusion. We get stuck in creative paralysis. We try to access the boundless exploration of the Adventurer at the same time the Scholar demands perfect organisation. Neither archetype does their best work when they're competing for attention.
The breakthrough comes from understanding that these archetypes don't need to integrate simultaneously—they need to integrate sequentially, each getting their moment to shine.
The container creates the freedom
I learned this principle from my practice of 5 Rhythms dance, where a structured map takes you through five phases, beginning with ‘flow’, peaking in the middle with ‘chaos’ and ending with ‘stillness.’
That container became the template for the creative process I’ve devised for my writing: Map, Draft, Craft.
In the Map phase, I allow myself to fully embody the Trickster. Ideas flow with that fizzy, streaming energy and its felt sense in the body. I explore ‘what if?’ questions, make unexpected connections and let thoughts sprawl across pages. But here's the crucial element: I give this phase a clear boundary. There has to be a permissible amount of time—not endless exploration that never leads to form.
The magic happens in the transition. I can't go straight from mapping to drafting; I need a buffer to shift energetic states. I need space in between the alive, rushing sensation of the Trickster to the focused stillness of the Architect.
In the Draft phase, the Architect takes over. Now that wild mind has provided the raw material, my disciplined mind can shape it. I break things into manageable chunks, knowing the container of structure amplifies the creative material rather than constraining it.
The Craft phase is dedicated to the Scholar—who refines, considers the needs of the reader, who finds the best vehicle for the message. This phase requires its own discipline: knowing when to stop polishing, when perfectionism becomes procrastination and where, instead of the work being endlessly refined, the work must be ‘abandoned’—that is, it is turned over to the reader.
At that point, it is no longer my business.
Consider the musician Björk, who embodies this integration masterfully. Her wild, experimental soundscapes emerge from rigorous discipline with technology and music theory. The structure doesn't constrain her innovation—it enables it. Or the choreographer Pina Bausch, whose raw, emotional dance theatre grew from highly structured, repetitive rehearsal processes. The discipline created the space for wildness to emerge.
When integration works (and when it doesn't)
When I was developing my audio drama The Cloistered Soul, the wild mapping phase went through several iterations of a ‘what if?’ exploration with my producer. Then came the disciplined work of chipping away and refining the story. Each phase required different energy, different focus: a different archetypal embodiment.
The approach works because it honours what each archetype does best. Set a six-minute timer for freewriting and that boundary focuses thinking rather than constraining it. Give the Scholar permission to refine without demanding perfection and the work can actually reach completion.
Integration fails when we get stuck in one phase. Endless idea generation without form. Perfectionist editing that never allows for messy first drafts. Or the attempt to be simultaneously wild and organised, which creates confusion instead of creativity.
This principle extends far beyond writing. In relationships, too much planning kills spontaneous connection. I once over-scheduled a date so thoroughly we had no time to actually talk to each other. But too little structure means missing the experiences we most value. The sweet spot integrates both: enough of a container to create possibility; enough freedom to let connection emerge.
In a culture obsessed with either/or thinking, choosing integration is a creative act.
Embracing creative rebellion
Integration requires recognising that your best work emerges not from choosing between your strategic professional self and your wild creative self, but from letting them take turns to dance.
The Scholar needs the Trickster's raw material. The Trickster needs the Architect's container. The Adventurer needs the Editorial Critic's discernment about what serves the reader.
Your creativity isn't separate from your discipline. Your structure isn't the enemy of your flow. They're team members waiting to collaborate in service of your authentic expression.
What becomes possible when you stop trying to be everything at once and start letting your archetypal parts take turns in the spotlight?
That's where the energy lives: in the sweet spot where opposite forces learn to dance together, each in their own time—all in service of something larger than any one archetype could create alone.
Love, Rachel
p.s. If you feel like sharing in the comments, I’d love to know how you make use of boundaries or containers in your own creativity to allow the wildness of your expression.
Creative inspiration
Books on the topic:
The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp. Tharp is a renowned choreographer and this book is her exploration of how ritual and discipline create space for artistic breakthrough.
Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés provides a deep dive into the wild woman archetype and how to integrate our untamed creative selves with our civilised personas.
Other resources:
‘The Surprising Habit of Original Thinkers’, a TED talk by Adam Grant in which he presents research-backed insights on how procrastination and structure can serve the creative process when applied strategically.
Pico Iyer on ‘The Art of Stillness’, an episode of the ‘On Being’ podcast with Krista Tippett. This is a beautiful exploration of how contemplative practices create space for wild creativity.
Memorable quote of the week
Form is freedom.
—Twyla Tharp
What’s next in your creative journey?
As your guide into creative courage, I'm here to help you transform those invisible blocks—the fear and shame that live beneath the surface—so you can express authentically and freely.
Here's how I can support you:
Make an appointment for a virtual coffee (free). I hold 3-4 slots every month for a 20-minute chat so we can either get to know each other, or reconnect. This is for everyone! Perfect if you’re curious about meeting new people and making, or deepening, connections.
Book a 30-minute Creative Breakthrough call (free) to gently uncover the exact fear or limiting belief sabotaging your creative expression so you can finally share your work with confidence
Read my manifesto for creative courage (free). Follow my story in serial form about the core principles of my creativity, my journey into creative courage and why I founded Wordplay Coaching.
Creative Courage Circle: an ongoing intimate group for deep creative healing and mutual witnessing, so you can develop your expression in community, without feeling alone on your creative journey. Membership is currently by invitation only—please contact me to explore this option.
Bespoke 1:1 Creative Transformation journey based on the principle of finding your Essence process. This entails 6 months of personalised integration work to embrace your hidden aspects and create from your complete authentic power.