Muse Missives: Invitation

// July 6th, 2010 // 8 Comments » // creativity, curiosity, missive

Dear Muse,

You are cordially invited to attend our upcoming creative endeavour.

It will be a simple affair with moderate amounts of paint, paper, string, sweet drinks, balloons, and birdsong provided.

We have taken the liberty of placing a sturdy chair beside the apple tree. We can also organize a faux-Classical Greek fountain if needed. Seriously. We live very close to a Home Depot.

You may be aware that my artistic side is fickle, fizzled, and occasionally crabby. We’re sure you can find a graceful way to be with this slightly hoonish part of me. I will be there to mediate if necessary.

There will be geese wandering the grounds, you may wish to wear boots.

There is no need to bring wine (though feel free), a small bag of bread crusts will suffice.

Breathlessly awaiting your arrival,

Dave.

The Goat King Sits On A Golden Throne

// May 12th, 2010 // 3 Comments » // Sovereignty, creativity, metaphor

Everything was burned.

I stood at the edge of our property where the bush began its descent into the valley. Looking out over the blackened landscape, I saw a white shape shifting behind some tree trunks.

At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, and walked closer to get a look. Then I saw it again.

A white goat had come up from the valley and was walking through looking for green vegetation to eat. It seemed to be floating though the grey smoke still rising from the ground.

*****

In early December, 2001, the Blue Mountains National Park in New South Wales, Australia, was hit with ferocious bush-fires. I had just moved there from Sydney 10 days before the fires hit.

After shifting all my belongings into my new home, I had them all packed up again ready for a possible evacuation.

The house was a rambling 130 year old mess that I shared with two other renters. It sat on 5 acres at the top of a ridge, the bush started a few feet away from our back door and rolled all the way down the valley.

We spent one anxious night sitting on the back verandah watching the fires out to the west. The winds were forecast to be 80 km/hour and headed straight for us. We sat most of the night watching the fiery glow seared across the horizon, waiting for the moment we would have to leave.

The moment never came. The forecast winds only hit 4 km an hour instead of the predicted 80. The next day the local bush-fire brigade came out and did some back-burning behind our house and we were safe again.

The day after the back-burning I went out for a walk to check things out. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a full-blown raging bushfire run through, because the effect of a tightly controlled back-burn was pretty decimating.

Just days before, the under growth had been thick and difficult to navigate. In the week after moving in, my first few attempts to get to the track leading down into the valley leading to the creeks and waterfalls were futile. Each time I ended up turning back, fearful I would lose track of where my new house was.

After the back-burning, there was just an expanse of charred soil, warm underfoot with smoke still slowly rising from it. Dead remnants of trees still stood here and there and a few had fallen and had to be climbed over.

The walk down to the sandstone cliffs that marked the steep drop into the valley now took about five minutes, about a quarter what it had when battling through the undergrowth.

*****

So, here I was. Looking at a goat.

I stood as quietly as possible, and watched it nose around for a while. The goat looked untouched by the charred brush around him. I wondered if it had bolted from a nearby home, frightened by the back-burning.

It was such a strange sight, the animal so clean and domesticated, foraging through ashes.

After watching the goat for a while, I went back to the house and drew a few quick sketches in a notebook. I thought it would be good to use in a piece of art somewhere down the line. Then I pretty much forgot about it..

*****

A few months later, the bush was regenerating. Everything  was thinned right out and it was easier to find the previously overgrown tracks leading down to the public  walks.

I spent at least one day of each weekend walking in the valleys, I usually followed the creeks that spread out through the surrounding area, climbing up waterfalls as they gradually got smaller and smaller then slowed to a trickle at their source.

The Blue Mountains area is famous for its golden sandstone cliffs and ridges, and I would often spot caves high above the creeks, climb up and check them out.

One series of cliffs had these gigantic golden caves that were eroded into the shape of golden waves about to break over the creek at their base.

I tried a few times but never found a path up to the ledges near the cliff tops. Whenever I walked by that creek I’d look up above the tree-line and check them out.

One day I looked up as I walked by and saw a white shape against the sandstone. It was the goat again. He was sitting on his belly, paws close to the lip of the ledge. He surveying the valley as if he was a king sitting on his golden throne.

The goat is a great metaphor for me, as he walks the landscape of my imagination. He represents a model for how I want to be in both my creative life and my ‘feet on the ground’ life. Because, really, they’re both the same thing. To me, he represents the qualities of sovereignty that I want to bring to my life.

He brought the same calm presence to the blackened landscape as he did to the recovering landscape. He walked among the charred debris and sat up on his throne, present and watchful, as the land around him bloomed into green.

Creative growth depends on this ability to maintain Sovereignty over my life, to walk through the blank times when the ideas leave me. That’s when I need to forage calmly, sniffing after any remaining green shoots.

I can also take my place at the golden throne and bring presence to my life.  Here I can cultivate the ability to be watchful, settled, calm within myself. At the same time, remembering that the world around me is magnificent, but can be lost in a blazing moment. Cultivating a sense of humour helps, too. (Another reason a goat makes such a great metaphor for my higher creative self!)

It’s important to find my golden throne, but I also need to remember it’s made of solid rock and shaped through the erosion of weather and time. Not always comfortable. Life experiences, the knowledge distilled from these, shapes who I am, how I process the world and what I have to offer. This is my golden throne.

What is your golden throne? What forces went in to shaping it for you? When you sit on your golden throne what do you see, what perspective does it give you?

Want to learn more about the concept of Sovereignty? Check out this wonderful recording by Hiro Boga or this great post on Havi’s blog

Parenting Is A Creative Act

// April 27th, 2010 // 2 Comments » // creative parent, creativity, curiosity, poetry

One of my favourite creative moments came just before the birth of our second son. My wife had been on bed rest for much of the second half of a very complicated pregnancy, and there were a few scares involving rushed trips to the hospital towards the end. Our oldest son had just turned three and was pretty freaked out by all of this.

We were playing in the yard and talking about how he didn’t want us to leave him to go to the hospital when his brother was born. At the time, one of his favourite toys was a Spiderman ball. So we got the sidewalk chalk and I drew a huge version of the Superhero on the driveway right by our front door, and told Finn that Spiderman was here to protect him.

Finn still had a hard time with the birth and the settling in of the new baby. The drawing helped at least a little, and he was happy to have it there. But beyond any talismanic protection Spiderman offered, the real value in this moment, at least for me, was that for a moment he knew that I was trying to understand what he was going through and doing something about that.

Creativity is much more than coming up with a great idea, or completing a piece of art. It infuses the way we walk in the world. Do we live as fully present as possible,in a way that embraces curiosity, imagination, and a sense of wonder at our surroundings?

Parenting is the ultimate creative act. It’s a wild place to be. You get to witness the creative energy streaming out of young children, as they explore the world and process it in the most amazing and unpredictable ways. What a joy to watch and participate in that!

But being a parent can, at times, feel like being stuck in the most uncreative place in the world. Where you’re stressed out, sleep deprived, shuffling from demand to demand like a zombie. You start wondering whether you’ll ever get some space just to be yourself again. Or if your creative days may be over.

As parents and creative people these are the two poles we swing between. But there are ways that we can allow the spirit of creativity to be continuously present, and even make it a haven in a chaotic life.

Commit! (to not doing your art)

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This is the one that makes all the difference to me. If I’m minding the boys and racing around making bottles, picking up toys, and fetching snacks while trying to work out an illustration or blog post in my head, all I end up doing is to make myself intensely frustrated. And resentful.

When I let go of my creative goals and commit fully to the fact that this is just Dad-time, then things get much easier. Just dropping the need to do my own thing (which would never happen anyway) relieves me of a huge amount of stress and frustration.

Something that really helps here is realizing that letting go of my creative goals means simply loosening my grip, not throwing them away.

Over time I’m really coming to trust in the wisdom of my unconscious mind. When I have a block of time where I’m looking after the boys I try to set a creative intention for my subconscious. If my next blog post is on parenting and creativity, I’ll just pop a simple question in like, what themes should I explore for that post? Then I let go and trust that something, no matter how small, will be bubbling away down there ready for me to retrieve when I have some writing time.

This allows me to be more fully present with the boys and not half-there to them while sorting out ideas. For me, being split like that guarantees this will be a day where I suck at both parenting and creating.

Surf Your Child’s Creative Energy

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Children have a lot to teach us about living creatively. Dinosaurs happen to be a big thing in our house. My son has corrected me, and I now understand that that they are not actually extinct, but very much alive. And, in fact, they live in our garden.

I’ve been on a number of dinosaur hunts with our older son and it’s great to walk around the garden trying to see things from his perspective. Puddles become Triceratops footprints, our cedar tree’s scattered twigs become fossilised dinosaur bones.

The world becomes larger as I crouch down to see bushes, rocks and tress from the perspective of a four year old. The world becomes more magical and alive as I drop my weary notions about dinosaurs and participate in a world where the ground still shakes with their every step.

Recalibrate Your Relationship to Time

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A few years ago I was consistently spending at least 2-3 hours a day on writing poetry. I had plenty of time to read books of poetry, and books on poetry, and got to hang out and participate on poetry forums. Add to this well many hours spent sketching and daydreaming, occasional visits to art galleries. I had all the creative time in the world.

I’m glad I had that too. I’m hoping one day to have that kind of luxury again.

But, now I have to make the most of every second I get. I’ve learned to work in 25 minute increments. Where I used to allow myself outrageous periods of incubation time, now I just snatch whatever moments I can. The surprising result is, I’m much more decisive an artist than I was a few years ago, and can feel myself sharpening up creatively.

Be Kind To Yourself

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While training to be a Creativity Coach, the first thing I was taught was to meet others where they’re at. The second thing was to practice self coaching. This involves asking a lot of questions of myself:

Can I meet myself where I’m at? Which of my creative goals are realistic right now? What small thing can I do to build some creating time for myself? What things I can prioritise? Do I have the support I need?

Most importantly can I be kind to myself? Even in simple ways like negotiating breaks with my wife, allowing myself a hot shower, clean clothes, healthy foods each day. (I’ve let all three of these slide by on too many occasions)

*****

I gladly chose to be a husband and a parent and this is my life’s major creative project. Even though some difficulties arise with this path, every single day I get swept up in the joy and privilege of seeing my two beautiful sons grow, and take part in helping them to shape their lives.

What can be more creative than that?

*****

If there are parents reading this I’d love to hear what you do to maintain your creative life as you raise your children. What difficulties do you face? What great successes have you had?

6 Impossible Things: #5 Dream Boat

// April 9th, 2010 // 4 Comments » // creativity, curiosity, illustration

Creativity is a non-linear process. We start out at Point A and end up at Point C, or Point Q, or any other point that happens to not be called Point B.

This is because, on the way from Point A to Point B , impossible things happen that steer us away from our original endpoint and onto fresher, shinier, more startling destinations.

This is not to say that there is anything wrong with Point B as a destination, just that the creative way to get there probably starts at Point W, or some other ‘non-A’ point.

Anyway the point is: a key feature of the creative life is that seemingly impossible things occur along the way that really kick things along, but only make sense in retrospect.

This is a series of posts presenting 6 impossible analogies for these ‘things’

*****

6 Impossible Things: #5 Dream Boat

How do we get the rational and intuitive parts of our mind to work together? Here’s one possibility:

A small boat carries you across a dimly lit river that flows at the base of a cave. Images appear: some stay solid, some shift. As the small vessel makes its way across the river you watch these images, remembering. Each image contains something of importance. Each image is a small star, its unique light offering a glimpse into your inner-world.

You can use the rational mind to build a boat for dream-travel. Write down one or two brief questions in a notebook you keep by the bedside. Allow your dreaming mind to  work for you. When you wake up jot down any images you can remember from your dreams, and look at them through the lens of your questions.

The World In All Its Brilliance

// February 2nd, 2010 // 11 Comments » // chagall, creativity, curiosity

*

In Paris I went to neither the art academy nor to the professors. The city itself was my teacher, in all things, in every minute of the day. The market folk, the waiters, the hotel porters, the farmers, the workers. They were enveloped in something of that astounding atmosphere of enlightened freedom that I had never come across anywhere else.

Marc Chagall

Do you ever have moments where the veil just falls away and the world as it is right now presents itself fresh and new?

My wife and I were out doing errands the other day and pulled up at a stoplight outside a cafe. A woman on a bicycle was propped beside our car waiting for the light to change. A couple walked, arms linked, in front of the stopped traffic. In the cafe every table was occupied, at least those visible from the street, and on each table there was at least one laptop open. One man looked through the window, checking out the woman on the bike.

I was struck by how particular this scene was to this moment, to this corner of the city, to the people present, and the activities they were doing. It was a grey Seattle day which threw a soft light over everything, and beneath the bustle of activity everyone seemed relaxed. Things moved in slow motion.

That moment will never be repeated exactly again.

Well it’s Seattle, so the clouds will probably be repeated. Never in that exact same way, though.

The woman on the bike will never lean in just that way, in just that spot, watched by just those eyes as she waits for the light to change. The relationship between the couple crossing the road will never be quite the same again. Tomorrow it may be deeper, or fonder, more fraught, or finished.

The man looking out the window might never see the woman bike-rider again. Or he may see her tomorrow, run down the road and ask her out. In a few weeks someone might even sit in the cafe reading their favourite blogs on an ipad instead of a laptop.

The light changed and we drove off. The moment of seeing, of really seeing that little scene, dropped away and a veil slipped back over the world.

I don’t remember much at all of the rest of the trip. I was caught up in my own thoughts–or conversation–for most of it. We probably stopped at a few more lights at which nothing really caught my eye, and soon enough we were home again.

But that small moment outside the cafe stays with me. It was just a plain moment, but bright in its plainness.

I read recently that when visitors came to Chagall’s studio they had to wait for him to throw on a pair of pants, because he painted naked. That nakedness shines through in his paintings, too.

I love this gesture of casting away what stood between him and his canvas.

Brief moments where I see the world clearly make me realise how muffled my view usually is. It makes me wonder if sometimes I walk around like a guy wearing a pair of pants over my head.

I’m not sure we’re even built to see the world in all its brilliance all the time. I’m sure we gather that mental clothing around us in self-protection, but I’m also pretty sure I go through life a little overdressed.

One payoff that comes from building a creative practice is that the discipline in showing up regularly to create ensures we’ll hit roadblocks and stop signs that occasionally strip away our mental clothing, forcing us to see things as they really are, if only for that brief moment as we scramble to throw our pants back on.

The Joys Of Being Unbalanced

// November 20th, 2009 // 4 Comments » // illustration friday

joys of being unbalanced