Saturday, August 10, 2013

Replete

I feel like I am always working - one project or another. There is this never ending stream of consciousness that needs to feed on creating, it's insatiable.

The truth though is that I am not always working. In fact, I believe the majority of my time so far this summer has been spent with my back on the couch and my limbs up in the air looking for some amount of a cool wind to alleviate the oppressive blanket of heat. For fucksakes. 

In other news: I've resurrected a silly little book I wrote and am editing it (well, attempting to) within an inch of its life. I have found that I really do swear too much (go-fucking-figure). The character I created doesn't read as a foul mouthed cynic - yet, she has the language of dirty redneck trucker at times. It really is good to step away from a project for a few years. I see now that I was too attached to the part of me that I was pushing into parts of her. Bad story teller. 

The art of bringing to life to all the little bits that collide around in my head and chest is mounting. Must feed, my very inside voice (the stream) repeats. And I look to inspiration when I feel like I don't have the physical energy to do what this stream of consciousness pushes. It is a push. I can feel it pushing its way through me, pushing me forward. "Come on" it says, "Come on... do it."

Sometimes I try and say no."I just want to be lazy, fuck off..." and those times I stumble over my feet that were determined to stay in one place. Touche stream of consciousness. Touche. 

I've come to understand that just because this stream may run through me, it doesn't mean I produce anything spectacular or even just simply good. I used to feel I wasn't doing the movement in me justice, as if the stream came to the wrong vessel. I am no Margret Atwood or John Irving and I am not a fantabulous sculptor either. Any work I do is riddled with immaturity and unsightly errors. It's very young. But the stream doesn't care about that, it only wants experience the movement of creation itself . It doesn't matter what I create so long as I create - so I abide. Today's stream requests languid tentacles and a bulbous head that is prepared to take many shapes: 


It feels good and it feels right, but there is much work to be done.

This morning I required a little inspiration to get motivated and turned to TED. I searched "inspiration" knowing a few of the returns I would get, one being Elizabeth Gilbert, the one I needed to hear.

I don't particularly like her writing, but her essence, her genius, her Damon is beautiful and just what doctor ordered.



Resistance is futile.

What is your experience with the creative divine? 


2 comments:

Syd said...

Hey Mantra, good to see you back here. My creative side has been strong since I was a kid. I did some painting in oils and acrylics through graduate school. But always along the way, I had a camera. I take one with me every where. And that is what I use to capture what I see, no matter what the subject. I especially like to photograph old houses.

I started a book several years ago but don't have the verbal creativity or angst to drive it forward.

The Lady's Lounge said...

uuuuuuuuuuuuuggghhhh....

The hardest part for me is maintaining (I say, as though I've ever done it) some semblance of balance between my practical life (work, kids, cleaning up cat-barf etc...) and my desperately necessary (like I will seriously be institutionalized without them) creative outlets.
Keep at it!

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