Creating is often such a solitary endeavor– it is so hard to explain to folks who are not consciously creative what it means to struggle so deeply with the process, with identity, with self doubt, with whatever is produced, while still clearly and deeply loving it. Not quite a dysfunctional relationship, but clearly one of approach/avoid, enmeshment and estrangement.
To create in a group, not necessarily the more obvious collaboration of writer/director/camera person on a single project, but to create around others, can be somewhat magical. There is energy in the gathering itself, in the shared intention. This is why I so much loved writing in a group for many years, why I loved (even though I felt other than) Squam Art Workshops, and why I love our virtual creativity gatherings, our Campfires. I am cooking up another one for March 23-15, near the equinox, so mark your calendars! It is a weekend of shared creative intention, of creating knowing that others are out there too. It is virtual, so you don’t need to be anywhere or really, anywhen. I’ll be sending out an invitation soon. If you’re not already on the mailing list and would like to be, leave a comment or send me a quick note icantwhistle at yahoo dot com
In support of my own creative experience on a more regular basis, I have subscribed to several mailings. One lovely one arrives every Monday. Another comes every day. Little reminders, gentle nudges, not to lose track of what is important in the face of all that is necessary in any given moment.
This came today from “The Universe”, and I wanted very much to share it as soon as I read it:
“It’s not from the known, but the unknown, Kate, that creativity and inventiveness are born.
Turn away from the predictable, cliché, and reliable. Brave the void where the darkness is greatest. Trust the quiet, find the stillness, feel the calm. Then steadily think, speak, and move as if you were led. Behave as if your vision were clear. Anticipate the emotional rush that will come with your triumph. And as if by magic, as you raise your pen to write, you’ll find the words have already been summoned, flooded in light that was there all along…” © www.tut.com
Gleaning solace and energy from the unknown, and, oddly, in the void? What a wonderful (new) non-panicked way to approach the state of not knowing!
Kate, I’m border line addicted to creativity. Perhaps I’m really addicted but I think I could quit if I really wanted to…but never want to. I do it in my cooking, dialogues with friends, product design, all kinds of analysis and hobbies. It’s most apparent in my cooking where I gave someone a recipe of mine for a simple salad and then gave them twenty variations – it was my first ever salad.
I am consciously creative, I love that phrase, mostly as a solitary activity and never feel as if I’m struggling with it. I know my process so well that I merely (with considerable effort) set the stage and then wait. It’s true when I write as well although I’ve not tried to write anything more than a few pages. I agree that creative comes from the unknown and there’s little less known than my mind. All I need to do is light the fuse. My all grown daughter and I are the most skilled at lighting each others’ fuses. Other people have to agree to play but we’ve already have agreed to do that years ago.
As a manager of a group of engineers, it took a while for most to get into the mindset. Sort of like my taking photographs – it always takes me an hour to hit my groove. We all could get into it after while but there were some that remained silent.