The Necessity of Creation: The Love & Danger of it
I’m doing my best to bask in mindful mornings out here. I appreciate observing what nature is up to through the window as the sun rises. I see a reflection of my current state in the elements always. As I’m greeted by a frozen lake this month, it has served as a good reminder while I too feel frozen during this season, the water underneath the ice is still flowing and bubbling. My ideas are moving and organizing themselves with the moving water beneath the ice. I notice I feel most desire to create something when I dont know what else to do with a feeling or energy. Ive been trying to express gratitude for the time I have to make art, by sourcing my inspiration from hidden messages in my days and dreams. Pillars of my time and evolutions. I think this blog specifically will serve as a vow to myself to keep creating a life I’m connected to and content in. And understanding the times I havent honoured this aspect of myself, with grace.
Charles Bukowski (Betting on the Muse: Poems & Stories)
Oracles are everywhere. The ones I’ve turned my focus to have been helping me recognize “The Creator” that lives in my bones. (If you havent researched the 12 Jungian Archetypes I guarantee you will fall down a rabbit hole). "The Creator archetype is at their best when focused intentionally on their internal world, and able to channel their imagination, visions, & dreams into a reality.” The shadow side is the Perfectionist, who fights the urges of the organic process of making art. Instead of creating in ways that magnify the soul, sometimes too much time is spent with the details. A battle between creating for self vs. what you think others will want to consume. The moment I acknowledge my own shadow and set her free into the void, I start to honour the flow. Using art to make sense (or sometimes nonsense) of my own current state. Vulnerability through sharing art will naturally end up connecting you to people who value you for your willingness to be so transparent.
@sighswoon
I’ve gone through phases of ignoring my various art outlets, outside of drawing tattoos. I deeply honour the concept of tattoos being a way for the client to express themselves in their bodies. My part in that is translating their energy into a piece that is custom to their intentions. I find contentment in drawing designs for others, but I sometimes feel stripped of my own need to create on a personal level.
I enjoy so many mediums. Crochet, Pottery, Pastels, Colouring Books, Acrylics, Jewelry, Poetry. These outlets scream for my attention when I ignore them for too long.
So I started a painting last week! Ive had this idea to paint a series of my very vivid dreams. I’ve always had symbolic dreams, some being premonitions (I feel like Bran Stark from Game of Thrones). I make note of the dreams I have nightly, and use a vintage polish dream book that my Baba used to own.
A few years back, I made note of one which involved a houseful of cats I adopted in dream-ville. All the cats were streetcats. Upstairs of the house I lived in was a tall and stoic oriental shorthair with a long shaman-like beard and mustache. He had two different coloured eyes. I could speak to him and he would respond.
I sleepily sketched him onto a receipt I had next to my bed and glued him in my journal. Shortly after, I had my first & only psychic reading. She was a spiritual medium who predicted things that would happen over the course of the next two years. She told me the cat I recently had a dream about was my spirit guide. Since all the downloads she gave me have all come true…I decided to paint him as a symbol for extra guidance.
Although my experience was incredibly aligned, I’m not sure if I will ever revisit a psychic. I have more leaned in to this feeling of believing I am moving naturally in a good direction on my own. Not waiting for anything to happen.
My dog actually delivered me an oracle last week that confirmed this trust in myself. Like actually in real life, not in a dream. He was digging under the couch persistently, but I was too lost in my Sons of Anarchy episode to notice (Im on season 5 and if anyone mentions Opie to me I’ll cry…). He was carrying an old journal of mine. I used to jot down quotes in this journal back when I lived in my old garage apartment in 2021. So I am still a little confused how it ended up under my couch here at this house.
First quote, first page, said
“Who the hell said you no longer had it in you?
I was waiting for something extraordinary to happen,
but as the years wasted on,
nothing ever did, unless I caused it” - Charles Bukowski
So I suppose picking up my paint brushes again is more than I could ask for. A wink to me from the universe. A way for me to honour my alchemy & protecting my creative spirit. You have it in you too.
