Pain.. tings… Leads to Songs

During my morning walks, a very strange thing started to happen to me. I say strange because perhaps you will find it odd, or hard to believe, but for me, this is the way my creativity opens up. And God knows how I have missed these journeys inward to outward. I had been living having to bottle it up for a long time, having to curtail the painful feelings that come from doing the work.

But why is doing the work so painful? Seriously, I have studied this idea of ‘resistance’ for over a year now, and it seems to me I have lived with this enemy all of my life! And worse, it is not an enemy that goes away. In fact, one must be wary of it. And you must be wondering, “What the fuck is he talking about?” I will illustrate this now.

To paraphrase aspects of the book, The War of Art, by Stephen Pressfield, resistance is the act of ‘self-sabotage’ by way of fear. It is not necessarily a fear of success or of failure, but a fear that by pursuing one’s true calling, and going all in, that life as we know it goes all out of us.

Some print work in progress after my epiphany.

Are you a painter that does not paint? A writer that does not write? A singer that does not sing? Then you know what resistance is. When you think of doing your work, do any of the following thoughts come to the surface?

‘I want to paint, but the art world is so fickle.’
‘ Why release music? No one is buying music these days..’
‘Why write when I have so much to do today? And besides, I have no idea of what to write about anyway’
‘I am going to write, paint, draw, act, start a business, go back to school. Tomorrow I will look into it. I’m way too stressed to think about it now.’
‘Creating art costs money, and I cannot afford it now…’

Do any of these thoughts ring a bell for you? I must have had them all, and there are a few more that are a bit too dark to jot down right at this moment. I just can not do it now. I have to admit, to write this out is a motherfucker of a scary moment.

But I am going to get through it because every time I do my work, the good stuff happens. The universe, God, Providence, Yah, or whatever you choose to ascribe to it, moves in to help you the minute you begin to work. I had lost that voice in my ear, but it is back, and its nature astounds me now. I can hear its call clrearer than I have ever felt it, and it hurts to think about how much I ignored it. And sometimes still do, which is shameful.

Eternity is in love with the creations of time

~ William Blake

I invite you to read the above quote and tell me what you think it means as you read it. Think about this. What does ‘Eternity is in love with the creations of time?’ mean to you? I won’t tell you what it means to me this time out. There will be time for that.

I’ve been drawing quite a bit as you can see…

Wow. How far I deviated from the original topic. That strange thing that happened to me during my walks. Truth? I met myself again. I ran into the person I knew I was, and in doing so I got busy making art, making sounds, and making some progress with life as that human.

And it wasn’t easy. I still have many flaws. Really, I do. And as I learn about them, and as I learn to live with them, or change them (because you can change them, you know), I am finding a painting, a color, a sound, a word… Under every rock I turn over. an idea sits there. I am getting so many ideas that I have nowhere to store them in my head. They must come out. But it could have been easier. Somehow, in some way, I think I need to put this into some sort of context in the work, to share the energy.

I had to learn to deal with my lesser self too. Well, I am still learning. I am still figuring things out. At least I’m writing it all out. So it goes, my friends, so it goes…

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