Is the art of surrender.
My default response has been to freeze. Grip tight. To censor myself further until it becomes safe enough to breathe. Like the mothers of old who would devour their own creations. Pressure valve, shrink and see it through.
Not necessarily fear of failure or getting it wrong. More it just doesn’t feel concrete enough, partial illustrative imagery or I am too small to get it out. Birthing pangs.
The battlelines have been trodden; state explanations and awareness backdropping the parameters but not allowing the strategy to flow. The words leaden on a fractured sky.
Bigger picture thinking is grained into resilience but not always accessible in the moment. Breathing cautiously pushes the horizon wider, pulsating, contracting. Rhythm.
Fixing is the opposite of surrender. Busy solution driven throwing out a spider web at everything, anything to make you feel better. Forcing the mind to shift to a different feeling state as if where you are is not valid. Sometimes it will just not budge.
Reframing that censorship is the next goal. Making peace with and defining my creative process. The need to mull things over, check inwards to see what resonates and fill my focus, shift my focus freeing myself from fear of procrastination or moral judgements about production. All parts of the process are valid and it is only from the lens of the picture as a whole does it make sense.
I am writing this having weathered a storm. I do not feel closer to writing what I need to for work, but I have written this. And that is enough.
And soon I will be able to articulate into words my experiment of the past 3 months: chastity.
Creating a vacuum to let things flow – sounds counter intuitive. But it works.
So, how do you delight in the tumult of the storm? Where sheer frustration others you from that internal world and nothing seems like it’s going to change?
I know not how, but it shifts. It did for me this evening.