be a vessel
be a vessel
embracing ancient thinking to tackle expression anxiety
Often, I catch myself experiencing expression anxiety. Before I voice my thoughts, I mentally shift through countless “filters,” agonizing over potential judgments and rejection of my whole being.
Overwhelmed by “what ifs,” I quietly shut down rolling through the inner dialogue rollercoaster, critiquing myself for not being the flawless expressive being I strive to be.
Acknowledging the importance of putting things out into the world, I started my search for metaphors that would help lift my anxiety.
having a genius vs. being a genius
The way we see ourselves and our creativity has changed a lot over time. Today, it is common to embrace the narrative of being a genius, a source of all ideas. You get recognized for your achievements and your outputs become synonymous with your coolness.
This contrasts with the beliefs of ancient Greece and Rome, where creativity was not about being a genius but rather having a genius within. Socrates, for instance, viewed himself not as a source, but rather as a transcriber of wisdom, whispered by a spiritual "daimonion” guide. Creativity was seen as flowing through an individual from some infinite source, rather than originating in one person.1
What if the narrative of "I am a genius and the source of ideas" is the root of my expression anxiety? Could this belief create pressure to be a perfect flawless source, tying what I say to who I am, thereby magnifying my fear of rejection?
What if, instead, I choose to see myself as a vessel that channels and transcribes ideas from some boundless source? What if ideas are not mine, but rather they just pass through me and I have the power to put them out in the world? After all, I am merely an organism that has lived a quarter of a century in a closely interconnected system, soaking in thoughts and impressions from the environment around me.
but what does it mean to be a vessel?
Lucky me, I had an opportunity to put the concept of "vessel-ing" into practice while working at a local teahouse. I love cultivating beautiful experiences for others and taking care of a teahouse on Sunday nights is one of the outlets for this.
But that one night our supervisor, Heather, instructed us to use paper cups for tea due to a shortage of TeaJs’s energy.2 “Ahh, this will ruin guests’ experience,” I thought to myself, catching uneasy feelings about delivering less-than-perfect vibes to the customers. Heather’s instructions conflicted with my desire to create experiences in which the guests sip one of forty available teas from our cute little mugs.
But I needed to follow her instructions. I needed to be a vessel for the teahouse’s rules.
“We only have ginger turmeric tea served in paper cups tonight,” I repeated to our guests and noticed the ease with which I delivered this uncomfortable-for-me statement once I embraced vessel-ing. In following instructions from the external source, I submitted to the role of conduit for those directives.
ideas are not mine and my words are not me
The “I am a vessel” experiment created a distance from my ego, alleviating the pressure to be a flawless human being and softening my expression anxiety.
In my professional life, I regard myself as a vessel for the users’ needs, tasked with the responsibility of bringing ideas on their behalf. Voicing the ideas feels especially important when I notice myself being one of the few young female voices in the room,3 striving to ensure that plurality of perspectives is heard and valued. Counteracting internalized misogyny.
In clowning classes, I see myself as a medium for the silly ideas boiling within me—ideas born as a result of being exposed to silly parts of human life experiences. I let spontaneous on-the-spot imperfection flow through me and don’t judge myself hard for unexpectedly coming up with a dark joke.
In my personal relationships, adopting the vessel mindset has softened my fear of sharing my innermost thoughts. I feel easier sharing the cringy, cheesy, or absurdly weird parts of my inner self. Vessel-ing also cultivates a more forgiving approach to criticism, recognizing that I am merely a mosaic of past experiences, naturally flawed and ever-evolving.
Thinking thoughts: what are some downsides of such a metaphor? e.g. can this justify Hitler’s behaviour? also, what responsibilities do we have?
A note of appreciation for Heather’s thoughtfulness. That night my mind was low and chaotic, which she likely sensed, hence tighter rules.
“Be a vessel” is another piece of advice from my coach as a response to my fear of expression in corporate meetings that are often imbalanced in gender. Thank you, Kathleen.