My friend Jen Kiaba, an awesome artistic photographer, (look her up on facebook and Instagram), posted this quote a while ago and I think it’s profound. Philosopher/writer Alan Watts, when asked for advice on writing, responded, “Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon."
He continues, "Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.”
I think this applies to every kind of creative endeavor. We often don’t create at all because we over think, over analyze, doubt, scrutinize, pick apart and reject seeds of creative ideas even before they have been put into the ground and given a chance to grow and become something.
Just start. And keep at it. If you don’t even start, nothing can develop. Nothing can grow. We scroll through Instagram and see the awesome work of other artists but what we don’t often see are the trials and errors, mistakes and failures that were also part of every artist’s learning process along with the beautiful and accomplished work we see displayed.
So, just start. Don’t censor at first. Just let whatever flows, flow. (You can always go back later to edit, tighten, refine and improve.) Don’t worry whether or not it’s going to turn out “good”. Explore, discover, loosen up, be surprised, listen to what wants to come forth and let go. Practice, practice, practice. Learn by doing. Make a 100 sketches. Make a commitment to draw/paint/write/create one thing every single day for a month. And don’t make it for anyone. Don’t ask, “will it sell?” Just dig deeper and deeper into what needs to be created, what longs to be born.
I’m telling you this, but please know that I’m mostly telling myself all this. All the time. Constantly. I have written many posts, here on my blog and on facebook, about similar themes, and I know I run the risk of being repetitive, but for me personally, I need to keep reminding myself over and over. Thanks for listening. Now go and create something. Let me know how it goes.
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Saturday, January 5, 2019
Thoughts at the beginning of a new year.
I've been thinking about what I want to focus on in 2019. A recurring prompt for me has been to explore, and most of all, to trust my own inner life, and to have the courage to face it without escaping into numbing distractions.
Who am I in silence? What wants to be born? What needs to be said? What comes to the surface if uncensored? What emerges if given time?
I spend hours scrolling through Instagram in awe over other people's art and poetry. I have countless notebooks filled with other people's words. Now I want to find my own voice, my own poetry and art. I want to finally remain quiet long enough to hear the voice of my own soul.
As I was thinking and journaling about all this, through some magical synchronicity, I came across an interview of David Whyte by Krista Tippet on NPR's OnBeing. Here's the excerpt that most spoke to me:
"The deeper discipline of poetry is overhearing yourself saying things you didn't want to know about the world and something that actually emancipates you from the smaller self out into this larger dispensation that you actually didn't think you deserved.
And so, one of the things we're most afraid of in silence, is the death of the periphery, the outside concerns. The place where you've been building your personality and where you think you've been building who you are starts to atomize and fall apart, and it's one of the basic reasons why we find it difficult even just to turn the radio off, or television, or not to look at our gadgets - it's that giving over to something that's going to actually seem as if it's undermining you to begin with and lead to your demise.
And the intuition, unfortunately, is correct, you are heading towards your demise but it's leading towards this richer, deeper place that doesn't get corroborated very much in our everyday outer world." -
Who am I in silence? What wants to be born? What needs to be said? What comes to the surface if uncensored? What emerges if given time?
I spend hours scrolling through Instagram in awe over other people's art and poetry. I have countless notebooks filled with other people's words. Now I want to find my own voice, my own poetry and art. I want to finally remain quiet long enough to hear the voice of my own soul.
As I was thinking and journaling about all this, through some magical synchronicity, I came across an interview of David Whyte by Krista Tippet on NPR's OnBeing. Here's the excerpt that most spoke to me:
"The deeper discipline of poetry is overhearing yourself saying things you didn't want to know about the world and something that actually emancipates you from the smaller self out into this larger dispensation that you actually didn't think you deserved.
And so, one of the things we're most afraid of in silence, is the death of the periphery, the outside concerns. The place where you've been building your personality and where you think you've been building who you are starts to atomize and fall apart, and it's one of the basic reasons why we find it difficult even just to turn the radio off, or television, or not to look at our gadgets - it's that giving over to something that's going to actually seem as if it's undermining you to begin with and lead to your demise.
And the intuition, unfortunately, is correct, you are heading towards your demise but it's leading towards this richer, deeper place that doesn't get corroborated very much in our everyday outer world." -

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