Mastering Your Creative Flow: The Art of Directing Energy

Ever feel like you’re riding a wave of inspiration one minute, then stuck in a creative rut the next? That’s your energy talking, and it’s got a lot to say. In the latest episode of The Creative Present podcast, Joshua Townshend dives into the secret sauce of creativity: directing your energy flow at will. Whether you’re an actor commanding a stage, a writer scribbling in a quiet corner, or just navigating the chaos of everyday life, this is about taking the reins of your inner spark. Let’s unpack how to make your energy dance—on cue, on purpose, and with a whole lot of flair.

Energy isn’t just one thing—it’s a conversation between two directions: introversion and extroversion. Picture them as your breath, the inhale and exhale of your creative soul.

• Introverted Energy: The Inhale
  This is your quiet, inward pull. It’s the writer hunched over a desk, lost in thought, or the actor pausing to feel the weight of a line before it lands. It’s reflective, focused, a deep dive into your own sensations, emotions, and ideas. Think of it as curling up with a good book in your mind—cozy, intimate, all about you.
• Extroverted Energy: The Exhale
  This is the outward burst, the moment you let it rip. It’s the opera singer filling a theater with sound or the director rallying a crew on a bustling set. It’s expansive, connecting, alive with the world around you. Imagine stepping onto a stage, lights blazing, and feeling the crowd’s pulse sync with yours.

! Asking if introversion beats extroversion is like asking if inhaling beats exhaling. You need both. Without one, you’re not just out of balance—you’re out of breath. Creativity thrives when these energies flow together, like a dance you get to choreograph.

Too much extroversion? You’re that uncle at the family reunion, yammering away, chasing claps and laughs but losing touch with your own heart. You’re all output, no depth, tethered to everyone else’s reactions. It’s exhausting, like shouting into a void hoping for an echo.

Too much introversion? That’s you, locked in your head, spinning in circles. You’re so deep in your own thoughts you forget there’s a world out there. It’s the dinner guest who just nods—“Fine, fine”—while the conversation sails by. Your energy’s stuck, bottled up.

The sweet spot? It’s not about picking a side—it’s about having both on speed dial. You want to inhale to recharge, exhale to connect, and switch between them like a pro. That’s what it means to direct your energy at will.

What does this look like?

• Control: You pick the direction—introverted focus or extroverted fire—without second-guessing.
• Adaptability: You shift gears on the fly. Quiet reflection in a library? Got it. Rowdy banter in an Irish pub? Bring it.
• Stamina: You keep the flow going without burning out, like a marathon runner pacing their stride.

This is where you read the room—not just noticing the vibe, but joining it, shaping it. Walk into a hushed library, and your energy dials down, matching the soft rustle of pages. Stroll into a lively bar, and you’re laughing, clinking glasses, fully in the mix. It’s not about faking it; it’s about syncing up, staying true to yourself while meeting the moment.

1. Check In with Yourself
   Two or three times a day, pause. Where’s your energy at? Are you inhaling—lost in your thoughts—or exhaling, chatting up a storm? Is it balanced, or are you stuck in one gear? Ask: Am I choosing this, or is it choosing me? If you’re retreating to recharge, cool. If you’re hiding out of fear, nudge yourself back into the world.
2. 
   

Creating Your Body Of Work: Embracing Vertical Time

This work is for anyone who wished to enter the realm of the Conscious Creator - and go deep into the well of "All That Is" and make their work impactful and universal.

Creativity is a river that runs through our lives, sometimes rushing, sometimes meandering, but always present. It's not confined to the moments we sit down to write, paint, or perform—it's woven into the fabric of our existence.

Let's dig into this and explore the idea of having breathtaking clarity, inviting us to define and redefine our "body of work." How? By stepping into the timeless flow of vertical time. This isn't just about finishing projects; it's about living creatively, deeply, and consciously. Let's dive into how this perspective illuminates our creative lives' fleeting sparks and enduring currents.

Your Body of Work: A Living, Breathing Tapestry

Picture a painter's portfolio or a writer's shelf of novels. That's a body of work, right? Sure—but it's only part of the story. What if your *life* is the canvas? Every brushstroke counts: the way you arrange your living room, the laughter shared over a spontaneous road trip, the unfinished poem crumpled in a drawer. These aren't side notes to your creativity—they're the heartbeat.

Your body of work isn't just the polished pieces you show the world. It's the roles you've embodied, the relationships you've nurtured, the dreams you've chased (even the ones that slipped away). It's the quiet moments of reflection and the loud, messy failures that taught you more than success ever could. Short-term bursts—like a sudden inspiration for a scene or a melody—feed into the long-term arc of who you're becoming. Zooming out, you'll spot the threads: recurring themes, unspoken questions, and a signature uniquely yours.

The Roots Beneath the Bloom

Creativity doesn't spring from nowhere. Is "that" project tugging at your soul today? It's not random. It's a flower blooming from roots that stretch deep—sometimes years, sometimes generations, into the past. Maybe the story you're writing echoes your mother's unspoken ambitions. Perhaps the film you're directing carries your grandfather's resilience or your culture's quiet ache. These aren't just ideas; they're inheritances.

Short-term creativity—like a burst of energy to sketch or brainstorm—often feels immediate, but it's tethered to something bigger. Ask yourself: *Why now? What's this really about?* The answers might surprise you. That quick doodle could be a seedling of a lifelong passion. That half-formed script might be wrestling with a question you've carried since childhood. Long-term creativity emerges when we honor these roots, letting them guide us deeper.

Vertical Time: Where Art Breathes

We're conditioned to see time as a straight line—horizontal, predictable, marching from start to finish. You begin a project, you push through, you wrap it up. Done. But creativity doesn't obey that rhythm. It thrives in *vertical time*—a space of depth, presence, and immersion.

Think of the last time you lost yourself in a film or a song. Time didn't just stop; it expanded. You weren't racing toward an end—you were *in it*, fully alive. That's vertical time: not a checklist, but a plunge into the moment. Horizontal time drives us forward with deadlines and goals; vertical time pulls us downward, into meaning and connection.

Short-term creativity sparkles here—a flash of insight, a sudden line of dialogue. But we build something enduring in the long-term dance with vertical time. It's the difference between skimming five blocks on a bike and digging five blocks deep into the earth. One's a breeze; the other's a feat of courage and craft.

The Beautiful Cost of Depth

Going deep isn't easy. It's not a casual stroll—it's an excavation. You're working against the gravity of distraction, doubt, and the urge to rush. But oh, the reward.

Welcome back to The Creative Present! I’m Joshua Townshend, your host, and today we’re diving into something essential for all creatives: the subordinate image. Whether you’re an actor, writer, or artist of any kind, this concept can transform your work in profound ways. Let’s explore how!

What Is a Subordinate Image?

A subordinate image is the image behind the image—it's the underlying emotion, experience, or thought that breathes life into your art. Think of it as the unseen force that gives depth to the words you speak or write.

Words alone are neutral. They only take on meaning when charged with emotion and experience. For instance:

• "I love you" or "I hate you" hold power only when we inject them with the emotions and experiences behind those words.

The subordinate image makes the difference between words that are flat and words that resonate.

Why Subordinate Images Matter

Subordinate images allow you to:

• Add depth to your performance: They transform neutral words into emotionally charged experiences.

• Create a personal connection: They help you relate the material to your own life, making your performance more genuine.

• Engage your audience: By tapping into real emotions, you create an experience that your audience can feel, not just hear or see.

Real-World Example: A Voice Actor’s Journey

Recently, I worked with a talented voice actor who’s been in the game for years. He’s a true pro—impeccable delivery, great voice, and highly sought after. In one of our sessions, I introduced him to the concept of the subordinate image.

Here’s what happened:

• First take: He delivered the lines as he normally would—perfectly professional, clear, and crisp. But it lacked that extra something.
• Second take: He applied the subordinate image, connecting the words to deeper emotions and experiences.

A Quick Breakdown: How to Use Subordinate Images

Here’s how you can start applying subordinate images to your creative process, whether you're acting, writing, or anything in between:

• Connect with your personal experience: Find the emotional undercurrent of what you’re saying or writing. What does it mean to you?

• Infuse words with meaning: Imagine the hidden emotions behind each phrase. If you’re describing a "red sports car," is it a symbol of freedom? Power? Speed? Let that guide your delivery.

• Create deeper layers: Even if a specific word isn’t charged with emotion (like "grain of sand"), bring an image or feeling to it. The more layers, the more engaging your work becomes.

Why This Matters for Every Creative

This technique isn’t just for voice actors. Writers, filmmakers, and stage actors can all benefit from connecting with subordinate images. The more you can tap into these deeper emotional layers, the more authentic and compelling your work will be.

By using subordinate images, you’re not just telling a story—you’re living it, and you’re inviting your audience to live it with you.

Takeaways:

• Words are neutral until you infuse them with subordinate images.
• Connect with the emotion behind the words to bring your work to life.

• Subordinate images help create a deeper, more genuine connection with your audience.

Let’s keep exploring these ideas, and remember: It’s not just about what’s on the surface—it’s about the layers of emotion and experience beneath.

Thanks for joining me on this journey into the creative process! Stay present, stay creative, and I’ll see you next time.

The Power of One-Minute Breathing: A Practice for Creatives

Every morning, I begin with a simple yet profound practice that grounds me for the day: one-minute breathing. This technique is precisely what it sounds like—slowing the breath down to one complete breath cycle per minute. It's a practice of intentional breathing that goes like this: a 20-second inhale, a 20-second suspension, and a 20-second exhale.

In that minute lies so much potential. It's a space where everything quiets down and slows down, allowing me to connect deeper with myself and the creative process. I highly recommend developing some form of morning breathwork—whether it's this practice or another that resonates with you. If this one intrigues you, reach out, and I'll gladly share more details.

The Benefits of Long, Slow, Deep Breathing

When you breathe long, slow, and deep—without counting or measuring your breaths—something transformative happens. Your mind quiets, your body relaxes, and your awareness sharpens.

This kind of breathing creates space for stillness. It invites a sense of ease that can otherwise be elusive in our fast-paced, goal-oriented world. And when you add intentional timing to your breath—like 10-second or even 20-second cycles—you may notice resistance creep in.Resistance often shows up in subtle ways. It could be a tone indicating it's time to switch your breath pattern. If you perceive that tone as something external telling you what to do, you might find yourself resisting—feeling like it's an interruption, a restriction, or a demand. And this resistance is not just in the breathwork—it mirrors a deeper pattern in life and creativity.

Change and Resistance in Creative Practice

As artists and creatives, we are no strangers to change. In fact, adapting to change quickly and fluidly is key to staying inspired and keeping our projects alive. Yet change often carries an emotional charge. When asked to shift direction—whether in life, breathwork, or a creative project—there's a natural pull to resist.

So, how do we navigate that resistance?

It starts with perspective. If you feel that the tone, the bell, or even external feedback is telling you what to do—restricting or forcing you to breathe or create in a way that doesn't feel right—resistance builds. It can manifest as frustration, disinterest, or even resentment. But everything changes if you can reframe that tone or signal as a guide, a reminder, or an ally there to support you.

And here's the most important part: this isn't just a mental shift. It's something you need to feel. You can't merely think the tone is supportive if, deep down, you feel it's a nuisance or a constraint. The shift has to be authentic. Your relationship tothe process transforms when you truly feel supported by the breath cycle, a bell, or feedback on your creative work.

A Shift in Perspective: From Resistance to Flow

Everything opens up when you start to see those signals—whether from your breath practice or your creative projects—as helpers rather than obstacles. The world around you begins to change. Or, more accurately, your perception of the world changes. And as creatives, that change in perception is everything.

We can resist the tools and structures meant to guide us or lean into them, letting them help us grow. The key is to feel that support and trust the process. When you shift your perspective and open up to the possibility that these external guides are there to assist, not restrict, you'll find a new sense of flow—both in your breathwork and in your creative life.

Embracing Awareness and Presence

Thank you for being open to these ideas about breathwork, change, and resistance. As creatives, artists, and storytellers, we are constantly in a state of evolution. Our task is to become more aware, present, and conscious in our process. Something as simple as breathing can unlock more profound levels of creativity and self-awareness.

I invite you to join me on this journey—to explore your breath, resistance, and creative flow. Together, we can expand into a more present and conscious state of being.

Let's continue showing up fully, embracing change, and creating from a place of authenticity and presence.

—Joshua Townshend

Welcome to The Creative Present, where we delve into expanding your creative self-expression while getting your projects done.

The creative process is like an endless game full of possibilities, joy, and discovery. It’s not just about understanding ourselves and our projects; it's about understanding the world around us and how we relate to it. My daily practice revolves around finding these moments of awareness in the mundane.

As creatives, our job is to transform what’s unconscious into something that’s fully conscious and then share it through our art. Imagine being under a brilliant blue sky with fluffy white clouds. While many might overlook this beauty, an artist becomes conscious of it, feels its influence, and then channels it into their work. Think of Andy Warhol turning a can of Campbell's Tomato Soup into an icon or Marilyn Monroe amplifying her own iconic status. They saw beauty in the every day and made it extraordinary.

Yet, the journey from being self-conscious to self-aware isn’t always smooth. Many actors and writers struggle with self-consciousness, which can make them feel small or inhibited. It’s a common experience to feel tighter and more constrained when aware of something new. This self-consciousness can be a step toward greater self-awareness, where you can consciously navigate and use your awareness as a tool rather than letting it control you.

To illustrate this, let me share a personal experience. I noticed a pattern during my daily walks: I always stepped up onto the sidewalk with my right foot first. Once I became aware of this, I wanted to change it to my left foot. Conscious effort and practice are required to alter this ingrained habit. Over time, with repeated attempts, I was able to switch my stride seamlessly. This exercise in awareness and adjustment mirrored the process of altering thought patterns.

Just as it took the effort to change my walking stride, altering thoughts, which are more subtle and lack external feedback, requires a similar process. You move from being unconscious of thought to becoming self-conscious and, eventually, self-awareness. This awareness allows you to easily choose and implement new thoughts or behaviors.

Consider children learning to walk. They stumble, fall, and get back up, supported by encouragement rather than harsh judgment. Similarly, we need to give ourselves the space and support to make and integrate changes in our creative and personal lives.

For instance, I also pay attention to how I step out of the shower or rise from the floor during my breathing exercises. By consciously choosing to alter these mundane actions, I expand my range of expression and awareness. This practice helps me in my work as an actor or writer, where embodying different characters or perspectives involves similar conscious choice and integration processes.

In summary, the journey from self-consciousness to self-awareness involves becoming aware of the unconscious, working through initial awkwardness, and eventually integrating new patterns seamlessly into our lives. This process is crucial not only for personal growth but also for creative expression.

Thank you for joining me on this exploration of the creative present. Let's continue to transform the mundane into the extraordinary and embrace the journey from self-conscious to self-aware together.

I developed the Three Circles of Attention framework in my work with actors, writers, and other creatives. This framework is a tool for navigating the myriad possibilities in any given scene, allowing you to consciously choose where to focus your creative energy.

First Circle of Attention: The Internal World

- This is where everything begins—within the character. It includes their thoughts, feelings, memories, and sensory experiences. When a character is in this circle, they're fully immersed in their own inner world. This is the space where introspection happens, past traumas resurface, and the quiet hope of a kiss lives. In film, this is the close-up shot, capturing the subtleties of emotion that flicker across a face or the way hands tremble slightly when nervous.

- As a writer or actor, when you focus on the first circle, you're diving deep into the character's psyche. You're exploring what it's like to live in their skin and experience the world through their unique lens. This is where a character's most intimate and personal aspects come to life.

Second Circle of Attention: The Interpersonal Space

- This circle extends outward, encompassing the interactions between characters. Here, attention shifts to action and reaction, to the dance of communication. It's about how one character's words or actions impact another and how that impact circles back. In film, this is often represented by the two-shot, where the dynamic between characters is front and center.

- When you operate in the second circle, you're crafting the push and pull of relationships. You're exploring how characters influence each other, how they push each other's buttons, or how they unexpectedly find common ground. This is the realm of dialogue, of meaningful glances, of the subtle shifts in power dynamics that define human interaction.

Third Circle of Attention: The External Environment

- The third circle expands even further, taking in the broader environment or setting where the scene occurs. This includes everything from the physical surroundings to the broader context of the narrative. In film, this is the master shot, capturing the full scope of the scene—the beach where the couple meets, the looming cityscape that frames a conversation, the endless desert that challenges a character's endurance.

- Focusing on the third circle allows you to ground your scenes in a specific time and place, creating a sense of context that is vital for the audience's understanding. It's about recognizing how the environment impacts the characters and their interactions and how it can symbolize larger themes within your work.

The Dance Between Circles: Shifting Focus to Enhance the Scene

A powerful scene often involves a dynamic shift between these three circles of attention. As a creator, your ability to fluidly move between these levels of focus can elevate your work from ordinary to extraordinary. Let's consider a scene in a café where two characters are having a difficult conversation.

• First Circle: The scene might begin with a close-up of one character's hand nervously tapping on the table, reflecting their inner anxiety. The camera lingers on the hand, allowing the audience to feel the tension that the character is experiencing internally.

• Second Circle: The focus shifts to the dialogue between the two characters. The camera widens to a two-shot, capturing the exchange of words, the reactions, and the rising emotions. Here, the tension between the characters is palpable, as each word carries the weight of their relationship's history.

• Third Circle: Finally, the camera pulls back to reveal the larger café setting—the other patrons who are oblivious to the drama unfolding at this one table, the city street visible through the window, bustling with life. This wider shot places the personal conflict within the context of the broader world, reminding the audience that this moment, while significant to the characters, is just one small part of a much larger tapestry.

You create a rich, layered scene with multiple realities by consciously shifting between these circles. The audience is not just watching a story unfold; they are experiencing the depth of the characters' inner lives, the complexities of their relationships, and the context that surrounds them.