Monday, May 16, 2016
Seeded & Juicy
The worst thing about being a creative person is the whole business of trying to get your pup to eat from a plate.
It is in the nature of expansive and combinatorial thinking to spill out and on and over, and in its way, this bounty is harder to deal with than the physiological forlornscape of being stuck.
At least when you’re stuck, you can get started.
You can focus on finding focus, and though it may take a while to find something to lift you from your momentarily paralysing funk, maintaining a singular narrative at this stage is relatively easy (if not immediately enjoyable).
In contrast, creativity has no bounds.
It offers unconditionally, and you must learn always to say YES.
Never overlook a single offer, always pursue, always seek catalytic symbiosis.
The problem is not that this stuff will run out or dry up or stop coming — unless circumstance or sublime personal folly should become a temporary obstacle — the problem so often is Where does this belong? What is the best use I can make of this shapeshifting morsel my brain just threw out?
This is not to say you cannot generate ideas to order along the lines of Henri Poincaré’s diligent conscious input. All of that is possible, and good thing too. But greenery always flourishes between the tramlines. Always. Like an unyielding spirit that refuses to be controlled or shaped, it exists and mutates as part of an ever transforming cosmos, and though we desperately want more work dogs sometimes — to guard our treasures, herd our sheep and lead the way when we are blind — the more we put down the food, the more the puppies keep on coming, happy just to roll around and lick our faces.
I should maybe throw in a jelly metaphor alongside the emergent foliage and slobbering pooches here, but perhaps jelly is a topic for another post.
Jelly — with a strawberry on top.