Being open to the desire to create
How can I possibly articulate the flame inside me? Can it ever relate to the world outside? And if so, is it that I cannot help but take a step, yet will never make a correct one?
excerpted from the drmstream Facebook page
I could have asked this question once. My voice would have cracked, tears welling in the corner of my eyes, the question so utterly important to me, and, even as I asked I knew the answer, that I was fighting a losing battle.
The empty feeling that I struggled with every time I sat down to work eventually beat me down. I stopped creating. I went away from writing. And for 15 years I pretended that I had never written, that I didn’t want with all my heart to share the mysteries of the world I experienced, to explore it, celebrate it, wonder in it.
I came back. I was a lucky one.
I don’t like to talk about it. The long spell away was painful, core to who I am but something hard to relive, and Art has taken me back like a prodigal son, filled with love and celebration.
When I see a young soul struggling with the desire to create, filled with doubt and uncertain in their own identity, I want to reach out and gather them in my arms, say, “Don’t look back, don’t look around, just look forward, follow the thing that you see and accept the joy it offers.”
They probably wouldn’t listen, just like I wouldn’t when I was a young man.
A brief appreciation of Matisse reminded me of the tremendous power of a life that is open to the desire to create.
Matisse worked through his life with so much joy in the experience of discovering new things. What he knew best was the importance of love: of the self and the world around you.
He who loves, flies, runs, and rejoices; he is free and nothing holds him back.
I wasn’t able to write again until I learned to trust the pure power of love.