The Discipline of Spontaneity
The Discipline of Spontaneity
Creativity asks us to dance between two seemingly opposite forces: discipline and spontaneity. One brings structure; the other brings flow. One sets the table, the other arrives unannounced with a basket of wild fruit. For many artists, finding the balance between the two is a lifelong lesson—and a deeply personal one.
When I was younger, I thought discipline meant forcing myself to work: showing up at a certain time, staying at it for hours, pushing through no matter what. It worked for a while. But over time, I realized that too much rigidity left me brittle and uninspired. On the other hand, pure spontaneity—waiting around for the muse—left me directionless and scattered.
What I eventually discovered was this: real creative practice lies in a middle path. A kind of rhythmic attentiveness. I began creating simple rituals—not rigid schedules, but gentle containers that held space for spontaneity to emerge. I didn’t have to wait for inspiration; I just had to be there when it came.
In my studio, I stay busy all day, moving between established stations—painting, collage, writing, reading, walking, cleaning, fixing a meal, washing the dishes, a bit of business now and then, talking to family on the phone, and usually a nap in the afternoon. This goes on from morning to night. Each season has its rhythm. I follow the impulse, but I also honor the cycle. If I show up to the studio and one thing doesn’t flow, I pivot. If nothing flows, I sweep the floor. Something always comes to mind—and there are always a dozen backup things waiting in the wings. I rarely rush things and mostly just flow from one thing to the next. I keep my mind quiet, my heart peaceful.
Within this disciplined environment—let’s call it a carefully built coral—I can safely engage in spontaneous behavior: doing what feels natural and good in the moment, rather than planning everything ahead. It’s a kind of quiet state of anarchy.
It wasn’t always like that. It took many years of frustration and discombobulation. I had to think things out, strategize, learn from my mistakes, develop patience, and commit to the long run. Spontaneous behavior can get you in a lot of trouble without self-imposed limits. This is where the self-discipline comes in. You might say that’s the coral for the wild horses.
Discipline, in this sense, isn’t about control—it’s about devotion. A quiet agreement to keep showing up with an open heart. And spontaneity isn’t chaos—it’s aliveness. It’s the spark that leaps when your tools are ready and your mind is clear.
Try this: Instead of asking, "What should I be doing right now?" ask, "What wants to happen next?" Then follow that thread. Trust that if you keep the space open, and tend to it with care, the creative current will always return.
The dance of discipline and spontaneity doesn’t require perfection. Just attentiveness. Just love for what you’re doing. That’s where the real work—and the real joy—blossoms.
Beautifully stated. I too have my daily rituals that I appreciate having and my reward is going into the studio and seeing what I want to do in there. There's also the necessity of going to my favorite places to buy the stuff I need to inspire and create my art. I'm not usually spontaneous in my every day life but am in the studio as I'm not always in control of what happens there, but I trust the process of what guides me.
Your process is similar to mine, and I also needed many years to cultivate it. I call it 'intentional flow'. I used to criticize my tendency to behave like a water spider,jumping quickly from one thing to the next, but now I take advantage of that kind of energy, and everything receives more attention and care because of it.