Pixies and Dropsies - A Different Perspective

When I was a child we used to play a game on roundabouts. 

We’d lie on the floor of the roundabout with our heads hanging over the end. Someone would drop a stick, yelling ‘dropsies!!’ and as we went round we had to find and pick up the stick (‘pixies!’) and then almost immediately drop it again (‘dropsies!’). 

I have vivid memories of concentrating only on the moving ground, faint sounds of ‘pixies’ and ‘dropsies’ surrounding me, finding the stick and gleefully dropping it again.

These memories came back to me as I watched my child on a roundabout, 26 years or so later.

She was happily circling around, entertaining herself, no need for a goal or a win.

My initial thought was, ‘what was the point of our game? Who won?’ All we were doing was picking up a stick and dropping it again. In childhood timing, it felt like we played for hours.

What was the actual purpose of it? My adult mind automatically labelled the game as boring.

Then I corrected myself. No, it wasn't about winning. We gained joy from a game with no beginning and no end. We had created something that we could play together, but be focused within our own physical boundaries.

It was friendship. It was fun. We had the sensory satisfaction of our bodies whirling around, blood running to our heads and the world spinning. There was no counting or point scoring.

We were just able to enjoy a moment pure presence within ourselves and our bodies.

As artists, we know that feeling well. It's why we do it. Especially if we're adding neurodivergence into the mix.

The feeling of being completely and utterly focused in on our work, in the flow or hyperfocus state.

It is everything.

And the loss of it can be devastating, even just for a short period.

For me, the loss of my flow state (or ability to flow within my creativity) comes from external influences - and often from this idea of 'competition', 'being good enough' or 'better than other people'.

I'm no saint, I am competitive by nature and I fight my natural jealousy regularly. (I don't need to be perfect, I just need to remember to be kind.)

And knowing what I know of state education systems and my own experience of parenting, I know where these external feelings come from.

We're taught to be competitive. 

Flow states don't matter if you don't go somewhere.

Bring your art into school and we'll judge it, there'll be a winner.

Sports competitions, music grades, school exams. Who can run fastest, sing sweetest, who's parents carve pumpkins the best, raise the most money...

'Be the best you can be'.

(They're seven. Can they not just be... seven?!)

And then into adulthood:

Who is the most "successful"? Who earns the most money? Who has the biggest (cleanest, well organised) house?

But how would we feel, where would our World be if we treated our creativity, our art, like that game on the roundabout?

Joyously independent within a creative flow state, surrounded by the spinning bodies of our friends, all picking up and dropping tasks and communicating clearly who has what, without competition or a beginning or an end...

well, that world sound glorious, doesn't it?

***

I've reopened my teaching practice, working with creatives struggling with burnout and creative block.

In order to make it more accessible, I've changed my booking and pricing structures:

- Book one or a block of sessions

- Up to three sessions a month

- £80 per hour

- The first three sessions booked are 'pay-what-you-can' (minimum £50)