The Energy it Takes to be a Creative Sorcerer is Immeasurable.
It’s when my home is exceptionally quiet, I listen. It’s when the distractions are gone, I can focus and expand deeper. My 8th sense picks up on the sublime.
I can relax into the stream of imagination where my sensitivities are engaged in a passionate delightful dance of seeing and feeling between the edges of now and fully immersing into an experiential expression of soul.
As creative souls, we need to wander and stretch or curl inward or outward. Creativity needs space to move. Sometimes we must rock or cry or laugh or shout. Sometimes there’s harmony and other times there’s deep discord; there’s a vast variation of extremes.
Each nuance teases out different threads, whether in our darkest nights or brightest days, we discover gems from the well within.
The energy it takes to be creative is immeasurable.
It’s demanding, exhausting, joyful, unnerving, and above all, exhilarating to be a creative sorcerer.
I have to carve out more and more time to be in this zone as well as to find a balance with a perpetual cognitive discord craving my attention; ordinary anchors me, creativity sets me free.
Some may never understand, how I pace holding 20 thoughts slightly above my head and several in each hand. I have conversations with my heart as it overflows in search of keys to unlock the multiplicity of manifestations.
I paint images and sensations with words and thoughts. Sometimes I wonder and ask myself, maybe I should paint with a brush? I’m curious if each stroke would physically connect with my body and express all that is bursting through the corners of the physical container in me.
I hold mountains and rivers and the sea in one hand. My head is often in the clouds and there’s a wild stream flowing through. I can’t stop the thoughts; I believe I am finally able to express, because it is safe to.
This freedom came at a price. I had to divorce myself from a menagerie of suffocating rules, and through this endless process, it has unearthed my buried soul.
It is a revealing synthesis of what has been stifled.
Creating is a journey and a quest. It is divinity mixed with the stars. I can taste the edges of a sunrise and rinse in the hallowed glow of the moon. I feel the eclipses of feelings. With a few blinks, I can transport to faraway lands, and have sand between my toes.
This tenacity seeps through my pores and flickers through my blood. My fingertips become the channel connecting my heart with my mind, and my body aches to speak the voices and traumas hidden in decades of time.
I need the expansiveness to create. I have a pulse and it will no longer be squelched. Inspiration pours in relentless waves of compassion and rage and love.
I know I have days in which, more often than not, my softness is an asset. I also have days where I breathe fire, and can hardly stomach the regurgitated manslaughter I see in our daily news.
Anger, I’ve discovered with awe, is not to be feared. For it is an alchemy of fire, and gives me fuel for my passionate heart. I’m seeing creativity as a gift of empowerment, and an ability to express the fuse lit within and against injustices.
My heart physically aches, therefore I must create.
If I died today, I want to be known as someone who showed and expressed compassion and creativity. I will leave this planet with the symbols of my words, and my heartbeat will shed love for all.
This is my song and my plea and my voice. I will stand center stage and shake as I give. It won’t always be beautiful pirouettes of prose. My eyes won’t always see through a porcelain rose-glassed-petals.
I assure you though, it will be my truth and how I feel.