I am a writer... and primarily a poet and in truth, I have been such since the day someone first placed a pencil in my hand. I truly cannot remember a time when, if given space and time, that I did not write and then, when I stop to think, I realize that even when I am not given time, my soul and my subconscious continue to write without my even being present. It is during these times that I find myself feeling a lack and find stress building to almost unbearable proportions. Yesterday was one such day when stress overwhelmed me as the needs of another, health issues, financial issues etc. stole precious time and energy and left me "screaming" inside. Why, I wondered. Why?
Cicely Isabel Fairfield, known to the world as Rebecca West, one of our greatest 20th century women writers, once stated that " it is the soul's duty to be loyal to its own desires. It must abandon itself to its master passion." If you research some of the great creative and powerful women of our time, you will find that they found or made time to pursue their creative needs. Isak Dinesen loved arranging flowers. Katherine Hepburn knitted during long stretches on movie sets. Queen Victoria, whom most view as severe, austere, and powerful filled dozens of sketchbooks with delightful watercolors of her children that reveal a true glimpse into who this woman really was when she was not ruling an empire.
Georgia O'Keefe, whose work I have come to appreciate more and more, once quipped "I can't live where I want to... I can't go where I want to... I can't do what I want to. I can't even say what I want to. I decided I was a very stupid fool not to at least pain as I wanted to... that seemed to be the only thing I could do that didn't concern anybody but myself." To this I respond "Oh Yes!!!!" as my soul calls to my mind, calls to pen, calls to paper, calls to words, calls to.... to me. All of us are rather proud of ourselves for having slipped creative work in there between the domestic chores and obligations. However, in retrospect, i am not quite so sure if we deserve such a big gold star for this.
The house still calls to me. Family and friends (thank the Universe) still call to me. My job, unfortunately but gratefully, still calls to me. So too does a poem call to me almost every day. The problem is I am often listening to everybody else and not my own true nature or needs. Sound familiar? Ever wonder why?
Maybe it is because we have convinced ourselves that we really do not have the time for personal pursuits that bring us contentment if it takes more than 15 minutes out of our day? Perhaps we are afraid to acknowledge the promptings of our creative selves who wants to learn to dance, draw, paint, play the guitar, re-upholster a chair or plant a garden? How many of us have gone so far as to take a class, buy a book, a pad and pens, a leotard, a plant, fabric, or a new kind of marinade with that little, nasty internal critic whispering every step of the way..I have to be practical.
We blame our inability (which in effect I have come to understand is an outright refusal) to follow our creative selves on things outside of ourselves. Our missed longings will have to wait until the children are back in school, when Mom's feeling better, when the economy improves. Wrong! Be honest and admit that until you put yourself on that list of priorities and admit that pursuing your dreams is essential to soulful happiness and peace, that you will never truly be complete. Now, notice, that I did not say that you should put yourself first on this list of priorities... just that you should be on that list.
One of my favorite writers, Mary Ann Evans, knew how to be practical about her passion for writing. She once stated that "It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good and we must hunger after them". Oh did Mary Ann hunger and she satiated that hunger by assuming a man's pen name so that her novels would be published in an age that totally discounted the authentic longings of a woman. You may well know some of the novels she wrote..."Silas Marner" and " The Mill on the Floss". Her pen name? George Eliot.
I may never be able to paint like Georgia O'Keefe but I do find splendor in bare bones and desert sands, as well as flowers... but I can and will certainly follow her example, to carve out time for rewarding reveries that acquaint each of us with our creative selves and give us a glimpse of our true journey and path. I know, without a doubt that my writing is my truth North... I will store up reservoirs of calm and content so that later I may draw on them when the source is not there but the need so overwhelming..much like yesterday. I must, as we all must dear reader, learn to satiate my hunger.
Space and time to nurture my creativity is not a silly want. It is an authentic need necessary for my health and well being. Oft times we think that only food, drink, work, sex, shopping, or pills can reduce the gnawing hunger to a dull throb. I know this is not true! But, I do know that if each of us took an hour a day (minimum) to write, plot, paint, garden, throw pots, or to dance, we would not be in pain -- physical or psychic.
Our aspirations ARE our possibilities. Follow me... follow me in the dance of shadowplay!
