Day 162: Sacred Messes

Mess is part of magic. Let go of tidiness in favor of truth.

In 1949, Jackson Pollock walked into his Long Island barn and unfurled a massive piece of raw canvas across the floor. He didn’t begin with sketches. He didn’t trace outlines or plan a composition. Instead, he began to move: circling the canvas, dripping, splattering, hurling enamel paint in broad, physical gestures. His movements were not random. They were deeply intentional, even if they resisted the conventions of art-making at the time. The result? What the critics called chaos. What he called freedom.

Pollock’s process was messy—literally and metaphorically. Paint stained the floor, his clothes, his shoes. He didn’t separate the body from the art. He was the brush. And for decades, the art world didn’t know what to do with it. Eventually, though, people began to understand: the mess was the method. It wasn’t a step to be edited out or hidden. It was the whole point.

We tell ourselves we need to clean up before we begin. We wait until we have the right tools, the perfect idea, the cleared calendar. But what if the mess is the beginning? What if we miss the magic because we are too busy trying to sweep it away?

Sacred messes are not accidents. They are proof that you were present. That you touched the work. That you allowed the process to move through you rather than trying to control it into submission. Pollock’s barn floor, layered with years of paint, is now protected under plexiglass. What was once a chaotic byproduct is now seen as sacred ground.

We forget this when we obsess over polish. When we scroll through curated feeds and compare our in-progress lives to someone else’s final edit. But creativity is not tidy. It never has been. Behind every great work—whether it’s a novel, a sculpture, a recipe, or a new idea—is a trail of abandoned drafts, failed attempts, crumpled paper, and raw emotion.

Mess is evidence of movement. It shows that you are trying, risking, exploring. That you care enough to go off script. In this way, sacred messes are deeply courageous. They say, "I value truth more than appearance. Process more than performance."

And that’s what today’s reflection is about: reframing mess not as a flaw, but as a signpost. An indicator that you are in the middle of something real. Like Pollock, you may not know what it’s becoming. But you are inside it. Moving. Feeling. Trusting.

That’s sacred. And it’s enough.

The Psychology and Science of Creative Disorder

A significant body of research across psychology and neuroscience confirms what artists and seekers have long intuited: mess can enhance creativity. In one well-known study from the University of Minnesota, participants were assigned to work in either tidy or messy rooms. Those in the messy rooms generated more creative and novel ideas. The researchers concluded that disorderly environments promote abstract thinking and inspire innovation.

Why? Because when our environment breaks from the norm, it frees our minds to do the same. This is echoed in research from Northwestern University, which found that individuals with "leaky sensory gating" (a trait often shared by highly creative individuals) are more sensitive to their surroundings. These individuals are more likely to be distracted by irrelevant stimuli but are also more likely to make unexpected connections. The mess, in other words, becomes a source of stimulus and surprise.

In the world of neuroscience, studies on the default mode network (DMN)—a brain system activated during rest and introspection—suggest that mind-wandering, daydreaming, and chaos are foundational to creative insight. The DMN becomes active when we are not focused on a specific task, and its stimulation has been linked to problem-solving and narrative construction.

Even cognitive flexibility, the ability to switch between modes of thought or adapt to new contexts, is enhanced in environments of mild disorder. A meta-analysis published in the Creativity Research Journal in 2021 found that moderate levels of environmental noise or unpredictability led to higher scores in idea generation and expressive fluency.

In short, the mess is not a hindrance. It is a condition that fosters experimentation, adaptive thinking, and emotional engagement.

Letting Go of the Clean Aesthetic

We live in a world obsessed with the tidy. From minimal Instagram aesthetics to color-coded calendars, we are encouraged to curate, edit, and compartmentalize every aspect of life. But in the pursuit of polish, we risk missing the point.

Mess is not only physical. It is emotional, philosophical, and spiritual. To live authentically is to accept that grief cannot be smoothed, that transformation is nonlinear, and that healing often looks like unraveling. The clean aesthetic, appealing as it may be, flattens our lived experience into something performative. It erases the depth, the disorder, the sacred chaos.

Letting go of tidiness is not about celebrating dysfunction. It is about honoring complexity. It is about trusting that meaning can arise from the unplanned and the imperfect. Embracing sacred mess means making room not just for scattered papers but for conflicting emotions, unresolved questions, and evolving identities.

Practices for Embracing Sacred Mess

• Create without editing. Like author Anne Lamott, who famously advocates for the "shitty first draft," allow yourself to make something imperfect without judgment. Start messy. Stay curious.

• Show your drafts. Austin Kleon, author of Show Your Work, encourages artists to share their process in real time. Reveal what’s unfinished. Normalize the in-between.

• Leave one thing intentionally undone. In traditional Navajo weaving, artisans leave a deliberate flaw in the design as a spiritual escape route. This practice reminds us that completeness is not the goal—participation is.

• Take photos of your messy desk, kitchen, or sketchpad. Artist Maira Kalman documents the beauty of clutter in her visual journals, turning the everyday disarray into poetry. Use the camera not to perfect but to witness.

• Journal the chaos. Think of Frida Kahlo’s illustrated diary—a vivid, fragmented, emotional record of her inner world. Let your journal become a container for contradiction and unfiltered thought.

Your Mess Is Not a Problem

It is the soil from which growth emerges. The threads before the weaving. The ache before the insight. Let your sacred mess exist without apology.

Perfection is sterile. Mess is alive.

And life, if it is to be true, will always be a little bit untidy.

If this resonates with you, share it. Post a photo of your creative chaos using the hashtag #LucivaraCreative and tag @Lucivara. We are a community of beautiful, unraveling works in progress.

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