I Lost My Muse
I lost my muse. She left as soon as I became Myself again. Equalizing heart-body-soul in an equilibrium. I never considered myself a poet, but for a brief moment, the words soared. Burst out of some shell I didn’t know I had and offered hope and understanding. My muse is a nurturer. She provides. She gives. She comforts. And she helps me create. Like a baby being born. Poems take on their own shape. Their own sense of life. Let me give birth to this poem. Love it and care for it and feed it. Poems don’t come when the storms are calm. This isn’t a poem, after all.
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It was Elizabeth Gilbert on a TED talk that first made me think of creativity as something that we tap into rather than something we internally possess. Many creative writers, musicians and artists have been tormented with creative “genius” that often leads to a fine line between sanity and madness. Madness comes when internalizing your genius causes you to hold on and take root. Soon, creativity isn’t something that you control, but something that controls you. Think of Michael Jackson, Virginia Wolfe, Vincent Van Gogh and Sylvia Plath. All of these famous figures were geniuses in their art but were also plagued by madness. As an artist, you have to learn to let go.
I remember when words flowed out of me like poetry. I didn’t know I had it in me, but it was after a rough patch of my life. Creativity flowed through me like never before. It was as if this dry well that I had been trying to fill up with creativity was suddenly overflowing. Although the words and thoughts were mine, the creativity was a source that I had somehow tapped into. Years of searching for it, wondering why I wasn’t an “artist” anymore and all of a sudden, it all came back to me. This time, instead of paint and paintbrush, through words and keystrokes. I learned how to reclaim the artist in me. I learned not to berate myself for no longer being an “artist” just because I haven’t picked up a brush in years. The artist in me still lives on.
Sometimes, I still get jealous of former classmates from art school. The ones who look like Suicide Girls and have model pictures and tattoos. The ones who have accomplished a quirky, artsy and independent lifestyle and are self-published writers, artists and filmmakers. The grass is always greener on the other side, even when I’m having an Elizabeth Gilbert-esque Eat, Pray, Love adventure of my own.
I lost my muse and she disappeared when criticism, judgment and perfectionism stepped in. When your heart is hurting, you live life in a more raw existence. This allows you not to pre-judge anything. What you get is pure raw emotion. On paper. On canvas. The conditions are ripe for creativity. When I get jealous of other creatives, what I’m doing is only keeping myself further away from creativity, by letting judgment set in.
All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. – Picasso
We all possess creativity, the problem is how to tap into it. I think of creative source as a consciousness. Creativity can be described as a “Gift from God”. We all have the ability to tap into it, but some seem able to more than others. Empty your cup. Let all prejudice and judgment go, and creativity can begin again. Give yourself permission to make bad art. Give yourself the leniency to explore and take your time. In time, maybe I’ll find my brushes again.
What do you do to stay creative?
