Would you still create if no one was there to acknowledge it?
What is it that moves you to make your art? To sing your songs, put your words on paper, your hands on your craft.
Isn’t it meant to be a short period of time that we are temporarily not entirely human? This brief experience of becoming a vessel for this unknown force that is creativity. It moves us and bends us in an unrehearsed but beautifully executed dance. It’s the magical push and pull of how that flows through you – and onto your page.
I have, more than I’d like to admit, forgotten that that’s why I do it.
I have confused myself into thinking that I create for those who will hear me, see me, understand me. For those who will validate me, support me, affirm me. I expect my craft to work for me and ensure that the product of my efforts will result in feedback that fills the voids in my heart. I have obligated my creativity to sooth my insecurities.
I have unintentionally – and unequivocally blocked that beautiful flow of creativity by focusing on my work as a product instead of a process. As a machine, instead of a living, moving, intelligent force.
I have denied the inherent nature of my creativity by trying to control it and manipulate it to conform to standards set by myself, or what I perceive to be accepted by society and industry.
I have assumed this creativity was not a gift but a right. And I’ve abused it.
Sometimes it leaves. For a time I become unable to express and create in a way that I’m accustomed. And in those times I slowly recognize what I did to contribute to its departure.
I am so lucky that it comes back to me.
It has every reason to leave me, for good. So many times my creativity has been victim to my mistreatment; and considering what I have done, repetitiously, I don’t deserve it.
But it forgives me. Every time.
It leaves long enough for me to have time to remind myself to listen, to feel, to embody, to express, and then it comes back joyfully, ready for us to dance together again. To make magical sounds – to thread words together like some sort of audible loom.
I am thankful to have the patience, compassion and forgiveness of my creative force. I am more aware now to make it an intentional act to honour its nature and simply envelope myself in the experience. Reminding myself: I create because I am a creator. Because it’s a way for me to understand the world; to digest my experiences. To funnel grief, confusion, joy, love, sadness, anger, hope…
Regardless of who hears me, sees me, understands me, validates me… I create because I am a creator.