I left off 20 days ago, still writing about the first day of our Alaska trip. I was so excited, overwhelmed and present to our travels back then. In those 20 days since, so many things have happened to derail my conscious thoughts and I am not as present to those images I captured and stories that are waiting to come out.
Recently I had a dream about painting a small painting of blue and pink mounds and felt the familiar and satisfying sensation of holding a brush while scrubbing the paint to blend from one shade to the next, light to dark. My desire to create is always there, in the background and for the last several years, unfulfilled. Having that dream was a gift.
A few weeks ago, I was doing some collages to get a hold of unconscious sensations and thoughts. Richard looked at one and said, that is your creativity trying to get out. He was right. It is always there, knocking. I don’t make time, I don’t let it out, and it is like a dark brooding sad little monster wanting to play and transform itself into a shinning star.
Regardless, lately there is a sensation of what some call “high vibe” fluttering within me. The satisfaction of being me is sometimes really great. When I can forget all the stuff I drag around unconsciously. Stuff that builds over the years. An incident happens when we were little, we react, we don’t forget really. It is there in our past and here in our present and future, unless we become clear on those issues and realize how insignificant we can make them by just looking. Then they no longer can rule us in their subtle destructive ways.
So why am I not so creative now? I have a story that since a computer was plopped into my space, I stopped moving about and using my body and hands to make stuff and instead started to sit pretty still moving my fingers only. I do love and have loved all my computers over the years. They give me much joy and yes, they are a tool for a sort-of creativity, but not in the same way as a good stand up, pushing-furniture-in-prep-for-stripping-and decorating or swishing paint and smashing it into a canvas on an easel, can do. Knitting while heeling over on a sailboat calmly pressing my bare feet into the fiberglass seat base across from me which was actually below me at those times. Stretching, bending and pushing clutter around to make space for the next thing I needed to spontaneously create.
There was usually no heavy preparatory thought those days, just doing. No agonizing if I was doing the right project, the right thing. No thinking about where to get materials and comparing prices on the internet till the project was all about comparing prices and the original vision faded into something not so interesting. Back in those days a blistering idea would come about and all of a sudden be in passionate frantic process. Work didn’t hinder me. Work was part of it all.
Now that I have distinguished that, perhaps there is a way that spontaneity and creative satisfaction will come into my life again.
In the meantime, here is the Whaling Wall picture.
By GingerP43
