I have gone a long time (for me) thinking that I haven’t had anything to say or write about—thinking that I am not a poet or an artist or that everything worth saying has already been said—and if I haven’t heard it or read it I haven’t looked in the right book yet.
Yet creativity or being creative is not about you finding me hidden somewhere on some shelf in some Barne’s And Nobles in some off street strip-mall. It is about enjoying the process of thought or life itself—it is about being satisfied that my life has been worth something—not lost between the weeks and months and years of occupying this earthly space—this mortal coil.
Creativity is really about taking the time to wonder—taking the time to roll around in the tall spring grass of your mind. It is about arranging the moments of each day to include thoughtful wondering/wanderings of lets examine this or that for just a minute or two before it too is lost to memory. Lets recall our life before our recollection of it dims like print upon a yellowed newspaper page.
Lets not be pressured into escape thinking—that we will catch up on everything when there is a little less stress and a lot more time—because that time is like water poured onto a thirsty garden plot—it all but disappears within a few short moments and we are left staring at the face of some dried up soil. You can almost hear it sigh with partial relief when the last drop of water is sucked into God knows where.
Who will water the ground of my soul?