The Creative Path: Reflections Inspired by the Ten Ox Herding Pictures

An exploration in journaling with Chloë Zofia of The Secret Librarie

I am an artist that deals in images. I feel a certain safety in hiding behind my symbols and imagery. As a medium, words are my final frontier. Language is elusive; the words I nail down to the page or to my screen rarely match the vibration of my spirit. I first challenged this fear of words a few years ago when I picked up a copy of The Artist’s Way and committed to 3 months of morning pages. I sat down every morning and begrudgingly complained about my morning grogginess, the work that I did not want to do, the art I could not find time to make and the inspiration I could not muster. I abandoned the program 2 months through during a particularly low period. Months later, I revisited it, only to find Julia Cameron's prompts left much to be desired. Too much of the prompts brought me to past "crazy makers" rather than addressing the real life socio-economic issues that dim the significance of pursuing art. For me, the program did not live up to Julia’s grandiose claims, but rather it made me feel more trapped within my own ego. (More on that later?) What’s more, I felt further discouraged from writing.

I’ve since learned that writing requires an inner distance between the writer and their material. Ideas need time to decay. I now tend to my words as I tend to my garden. I have come to accept that I can’t expect the words that I write to always reflect my spirit the way that I’d like for them to. Instead of restraining my pen, I now let the words flow free, not focusing too much on the accuracy of each sentence, but the freedom that I allow them. I’ve transitioned into a more process-based approach to my writing, utilizing active imagination practices I learned while reading about Carl Jung. Writing has become a means of actively probing my soul for questions.

Sometimes I find myself, sometimes I feel perpetually lost in myself. I’ve since learned to view my writing practice as a sort of game of cat and mouse, know that the closer I get to a creative breakthrough, the more resistance I sense in my ego trying to hold on. I have also learned that the creative path is rarely a linear path. Inspiration will come in starts and fits, you will find inspiration many times and loose it before your thoughts take form. Rather than a journey towards a clear destination, creativity is a constant state of becoming.

This week’s newsletter features a collaboration with

Chloë Zofia

from The Secret Librarie. In her Substack newsletter, Chloë advocates for journaling as an act of self-care and shares how it has transformed her own life. She also highlights excerpts from her favorite writers. I've posed several questions to Chloë about her journaling journey, exploring how it has profoundly changed her life. I’ve woven this conversation into the framework of the Ten Ox herding Pictures, a series of allegories from Zen Buddhist teachings that depict a seeker's path to enlightenment through the search for, taming, and eventual release of a bull. This allegory serves as a perfect metaphor for the creative journey, illustrating the stages of discovery, mastery, and freedom that define the artistic process.

In the pasture of the world, I endlessly push aside the tall grasses in search of the Ox. Following unnamed rivers, lost upon the interpenetrating paths of distant mountains, My strength failing and my vitality exhausted, I cannot find the Ox

1. Searching for the Ox

At the start, we won't know what to put down on the page. We may fear that we have nothing valuable to say. Our minds will struggle to pin down a cohesive thought. We'll find ourselves repeating the same questions incessantly, without finding any answers. We'll feel uncertain about what exactly we are trying to express. This first phase represents the artist’s search for themselves. We are searching for the ox but have not yet found his tracks. In my interview with

Chloë Zofia

, she perfectly expresses how we should approach this first phase of our search:

Journaling has been the one constant in my life since I was about 12. This isn't a dig at my parents or upbringing, but rather, a testament to the emotional support one can feel from a journal. Sometimes I poured my heart out to my journal. Other times, I carried it around in my purse like a little pal but didn't write in it daily. The main thing though, is that it was always an ally in helping me express myself. No thought is too deep, no emotion too dark, no reaction too intense for a journal. It's neutral.

This is not a time to place any limits on yourself. Let your mind wander wherever it wants to go. Write whatever comes to mind, and draw whatever captures your imagination. You won't find the Ox’s tracks by forcing yourself in a specific direction. Do not worry about being original or developing a distinct “style” just yet. This is also a period where the you should be absorbing as much inspiration as you can. Find the art you love, and the books you can’t put down. Allow yourself to be untethered and free. Embrace the unknown, and you'll discover yourself within it.

2. Finding the Tracks

I see the tracks of the Ox, which has roamed all over. Straying over the hills, crossing rivers, its traces are found everywhere.

After a period of meandering, you'll start to notice patterns emerging. You'll discover common themes and imagery that repeatedly appear in your journals, the art you create, and the artworks you're drawn to. This indicates that you've stumbled upon the ox's tracks. You haven't found him yet, but you're gathering clues that will lead you there. Chloë shared the following journal entry with me that inspired her.

November 2, 1926

“I have a headache; I am sleepy. I cannot write anything sensible. But I know for one minute that I passionately desired to have you near me, the only one beside whom I feel true reality, what life has that is most concrete, only exists in our souls." —Simone de Beauvoir, from Diary of a Philosophy Student, Volume 1: 1926-1927

I like this because it humanizes a super intense philosopher. Beauvoir accomplished so much intellectually, that it's heart-warming to see her little mundane notes about feeling off and longing for her lover. It reminds me that even the greats had off days.

The passage from Simone de Beauvoir exemplifies the stage of "Finding the Tracks" in a creative or introspective journey by candidly capturing a moment of personal truth and emotional depth. Her juxtaposition of everyday discomforts with deep existential longing provides clear indicators—tracks—of her core emotional and philosophical concerns. These spontaneous, honest reflections are essential for identifying the themes that resonate most profoundly with an individual, guiding their further exploration and creative expression. In essence, this diary entry illustrates how genuine, unfiltered moments of self-expression help map the path towards deeper self-understanding and artistic authenticity.

At this stage you should be noticing patterns, documenting insights (no matter how small) and cultivating deep patience. Finding the ox will take time. Learn to find joy in the search.

I hear the song of the nightingale. The sun is warm, the wind is mild, willows are green along the shore. Here no Ox can hide! What artist can draw that massive head, those majestic horns?

3. Seeing the Ox

The ox is now in clear view; you can see him, but you cannot catch him. In this allegory, the ox symbolizes your true self and inherent nature, which, although now recognized, remains elusive and not fully grasped. This stage of the journey represents a critical point of awareness where you can identify and acknowledge your core traits, desires, and instincts, but have not yet mastered integrating these elements into your conscious life and actions. The visibility of the ox indicates progress in self-understanding, yet the inability to catch it reflects the ongoing challenge of fully embodying and expressing these insights consistently and effectively.

The poem accompanying this ox herding picture asks, "What artist could draw that massive head, those majestic horns?" Although we envision what we aim to express in our creative practice, we often lack the ability to fully articulate it initially. The challenge at this stage is to avoid self-censorship, which can be tempting as the emerging thoughts might be intimidating. You might not feel ready to express what's within you now, but clarity will come with time. It's crucial to grant yourself privacy during this phase. Dedicate a space in your journal where you can write completely uncensored, allowing your thoughts and creativity to flow without restraint. I asked Chloë about how self censorship manifests in her journaling practice:

Not really, although I challenged myself to journal daily for a year (side note: already failed that challenge) and for accountability, I started recording my journal writing. It was kind of a radical decision, and I don't know what compelled me exactly. More to unpack there one day! But yes, I began censoring myself in my entries because I knew it'd be posted online. It started losing it's magic of course, and so I had to stop recording. Being unfiltered is a key ingredient for transformative journaling.

I think this response points to some core issues for creatives working today. We often approach our work already anticipating the reaction of our audience, as we’re able to share our work instantaneously with our peers. We cannot get We need to create safe spaces within our practice for unhindered exploration. We need to protect our creative privacy in the digital age.

I seize him with a terrific struggle. His great will and power are inexhaustible. He charges to the high plateau far above the cloud-mists, Or in an impenetrable ravine he stands.

4. Catching the OX

The ox is now in our grasp, but we do not yet have control over his temper. If we aren’t careful we may loose him. This phase of our journey is about editing, and developing a sense of discipline and structure. Upon catching the ox, we are now approaching a deeper understanding of our creative purpose. We are in contact with the “source.” To illustrate what this phase might look like in our ox herding journey, I asked Chloë to describe a moment when she felt she gained significant control over her craft, and what strategies she used to take control:

When I moved to France as an aupair in 2015, I dove into the unknown. I'd never taken French classes before, which is one of the reasons why I was selected for this nanny position. The family preferred someone who didn't know any French. I think this was desirable because it created a language barrier for the children, which forced them to speak English more regularly at home. I sure as hell wasn't about to be one of those disappointing Americans who speaks English to everyone in a French town hoping they'll respond positively. No! I spoke French as much as I could, and what really helped me was pretending to be fluent in my journal. I used a classic pocket dictionary to translate words, as well as a saucy little 1980s book with dirty French slang and curse words. It was called MERDE ! by Geneviève. Four years later, my Miranda Priestly dreams would come true, and I'd join the editorial team for a subversive fashion publication called MERDE Magazine.

But that's a story for another day! This experience brought me closer to a serious writing practice. My journal became my daily haven to consult when I needed a friend, a therapist, a thing to swear at (lol), and a safe place to learn a new language. Returning to your question, I can't say for sure if this gave me a sense of control over my craft. I can say, though, that this experience cemented my obsession with journaling. It was the bridge between randomly whining into my diary (though I still did plenty of that) and showing up consistently to a daily writing practice as an adult. TL;DR Moving to a foreign country where I didn't speak the language definitely pushed me to take the craft of writing more seriously.

This experience is a prime example of "taking the bull by the horns." Even if not perfect, the commitment to daily practice and the determination to improve are key at this stage. It's crucial, however, to balance our efforts to avoid burnout. We must approach this phase with gentle persistence, ready to get back on the bull each time it bucks us off.

The whip and rope are necessary, Else he might stray off down some dusty road. Being well-trained, he becomes naturally gentle. Then, unfettered, he obeys his master.

5. Taming the Ox

We must keep the Ox on a short leash, but we are beginning to gain control. Where Chloë caught the Ox by attacking a new language in her journaling practice head on, this phase is about persistence, and continuing to collect and analyze raw data about our creative practice. You may find your creative impulses are still somewhat of a mystery to you, and there will still be several days that you question the path you’re on. Keep going!

Mounting the ox, slowly I return homeward. The voice of my flute intones through the evening. Measuring with hand-beats the pulsating harmony, I direct the endless rhythm. Whoever hears this melody will enjoy me.

6. Riding Home

There is a sense now of returning home, and a discovery of a deep inner peace. Writing, or whatever creative endeavor that you seek will come more naturally to you. There is also a great fear in loosing it! I asked Chloë to illustrate this phase in our journey by asking “What does it feel like to be in harmony with your inner self or your journaling? Can you share an experience where you felt this alignment distinctly?”

Smokey Robinson said it best, or what it Michelangelo Buonarroti? The feeling of being in harmony is agony and ecstasy. It's agonizing because once you know that feeling exists, it's hard not to use that as your measuring stick. What does it feel like? This is such an interesting question—I love it! Being in harmony with journaling (or writing) feels like a best friend or lover hugging you tightly, looking you gently in the eyes, validating your feelings, and acknowledging that you are unabashedly alive. There's a slight feeling of exposure and, therefore, vulnerability. You're exposed in a safe space, though, so it's freeing. I felt this when I kept a brief blog about being an aupair. I'll probably take it down eventually, but it's still up at the moment. Here's the link if you're curious!

Fulfillment and fear will converge on our ride home. We now know the great heights our creativity can take us to, but we also know that we will sometimes feel locked away from accessing it. This duality enriches our creative endeavors, making the act of writing and making art not just a pursuit of authentic self-expression, but it also becomes a force that connects us to others. Lean into vulnerability at this time.

The whip and rope are useless now, I reach the mountaintop with no trace of the ox. He and myself are one, I need no flute to bring home.

7. Forgetting the Ox

The departure of the ox symbolizes a pivotal moment where the ego, once a dominant force, has been integrated and transcended. Having tamed and ridden the ox home, you might find yourself caught up in the glory of your achievements. However, this pride can subtly reengage the ego, turning even the victory over it into an egoic act. This stage demands continual vigilance to ensure that these accomplishments refine rather than define you, fostering a deeper, humble engagement with the world. Thus, the true challenge is applying the lessons learned in a balanced, ego-free manner, keeping grounded in your true nature without attachment to the outcomes. When asked about her relationship to her ego in writing, Chloë says:

Truthfully, I've never journaled without sensing an egoic presence. It's always there. When I think of ego, I'm reminded of learning about the id, the ego, and the superego in college. I don't love Freud, but I believe he was on to something here. The ego is the self or an awareness of the self, and it's always mediating between the id (individual wants, needs, desires) and the superego (community conscience, ethics, morality). In a way, journaling is like materializing your ego. It's like plucking your ego out of the ether and making it physical. I don't seek to be devoid of ego, but rather to housetrain it.

I love this idea of housetraining our ego—for myself the ego is ever present. I’m always pushing it back down, trying to find ways that I can silence it. There are a few euphoric moments in my practice where I feel at one with the source, or my true soul, but it feels futile to force the ego away for longer than a few moments. When I am fighting with the ego in my writing, I try to assure it that it may come back into full being later—but while I paint, write, draw or embroider, I try to stay in contact with the infinite for as long as I can.

Whip, rope, person and ox, all merge into no thing. This heaven is so vast, no message to stain it. How may a snowflake exist in a raging fire? Here are the footprints of our ancestors.

8. Forgetting the Ox and the Self

These are the moments of our art making process that are pure bliss. We are in a space outside of time. The laws of reality are forgotten. We are in touch with a powerful force that connects us to all times and all places. Everything merges into the “one.” This is an especially elusive phase in this great creative journey that we crave the most. I cannot say that I live here, but with consistent practice I know how to enter it. I find it easiest to access when I am engaged in an act that is repetitious. This is why I enjoy crafts like embroidery, or quilting that require little engagement with the intellect. I also I have felt in this space when I am dancing in a crowd. When I can feel the rhythm in my bones and my limbs catch every beat, and I can feel the crowd of people around me enter this space with me.

Too many steps have been taken returning to the root and the source. Better to have been blind and deaf from the beginning! Dwelling in one’s true abode, unconcerned with and without— the river flows tranquilly on and the flowers are red.

9. Returning to the Source

We find ourselves back where we began, yet we see ourselves, our art, and the purpose for making it more clearly. We have transcended the need to impress or gain fame or notoriety for what we make. we do it because it draws us into our one-ness with the universe. We do it from a place of pure being. Here, the difficulty lies in overcoming the ego’s attachment to these accomplishments and the subtle desire for external validation or recognition that may have developed along the way. We must navigate the delicate balance of appreciating the skills and insights gained without letting them define or confine their identity and practice. It is important to remember that there is no final arrival. We must return to the source regularly.

Barefooted and naked of breast, I mingle with the people of the world. My clothes are ragged and dust-laden, and I am ever blissful. I use no magic to extend my life; Now, before me, the dead trees become alive.

10. Entering the marketplace

Now that we have endured this journey, it is time to share it with others. This is the butterfly effect. As we share our work, we watch our energy radiate outwards and inspire others to start their journey and navigate road blocks as they arise. As we feel this force strengthen within us, we see it’s true power. We see everyone’s true power. This sharing not only enriches others but also deepens our own understanding and connection to the collective human experience.

Here, Chloë shares how she hopes to share her insights and talents:

I hope my Secret Librairie operation will help others once it finds or creates a community. Journaling is a solo pursuit, and so is searching for your higher purpose, coping with depression, or managing spiraling thoughts. My dream for Secret Librairie is to offer a sense of community alongside that inevitable experience of loneliness in the struggle.

There becomes a point in our creative journey that serving ourselves with our art will feel meaningless. Art making is a communal act. It’s power lies both in it’s ability to help us to discover ourselves, but to also resonate with others, provoke thought, and inspire change. By sharing our art, we invite others into our world, offering them a mirror for their own experiences and a window into others’.

Reflecting on our discussion about the communal impact of art, I'd love to hear about your own experiences. Feel free to answer any of these questions in the comments!

1. Where do you think you’re currently at on this ox herding journey? Where do you get stuck? What is some advice you have that could help others?

2. How has your creative journey connected you to others, and what role does community play in your art?

3. Who are the artists or creators that inspire you not only by their work but also by their ability to impact society? How do they influence your approach to art?