I have a difficult relationship with creativity.
Creativity seems to be absolutely essential to my wellbeing, to making me all of me. I feel an almost constant and fierce desire for creative efforts.
And yet, I confront my own incredible resistance to it. The resistance wins, more often than not.
Sometimes, I think of the problem as a matter of being able to allow creativity. That, say, conditions must be just right for my creativity to emerge and flourish.
I think that maybe I need daylight hours in which to do my creative work. Or I need a particular environment that is somehow unavailable to me. Or I don’t have the right materials. Or I’m not skilled enough. Or the planets are not in alignment. Or the Muse is absent. Or. Or. Or.
Kind of sounds like excuses, eh?
And then I think that it’s not really a matter of engineering conditions to allow creativity. The problem is really a matter of eliciting creativity – calling it forth.
This involves setting the intention to do my creative work, committing to it, and forcing myself to carry through despite conditions.
I managed to prove to myself that this is possible. And fruitful.
Still, such commitment takes both courage and self-compassion.
I am not whole if I am not creative. If my creativity is suppressed, part of me is missing – a pretty important part.
I have looked long and painfully at the reasons my creative soul hides. I have learned a few things.
The world is a pretty scary place for that corner of my soul.
She is not at all convinced of her own absolute legitimacy and worthiness. She has no assurance whatever that she is loved and wanted and safe. And she just knows it’s totally not okay to get messy.
It is a matter of compassionately taking her hand and showing her it’s okay to come out. Indeed, showing her that the world is not whole without her.
It gets better with practice.
Intention, commitment, action.