One night, almost a year ago, I came bounding out of bed in the middle of the night with an idea for a post. I’d swear something had yanked me by the collar of my pjs.
I fixed a cup of tea and started writing. It was as if this post had built up in my mind while I was sleeping. It couldn’t wait until morning to be spilled out on the keyboard.
That post got me in some hot water. When I completed it – in about twenty minutes – I didn’t step back and anticipate that I might be getting myself in trouble for posting it. There was no question about hitting the ‘publish’ button.
To this day, I don’t know where that post came from.
This post arrived the same way.
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Fast forward a couple months, I discovered a TED Talk with Elizabeth Gilbert. What she said about creativity rang true for me. To poorly paraphrase, she suggests that creativity is a force that exists outside of us, and is expressed through us.
When I watch my daughter draw or paint, it’s as if something else is guiding her hand. I’d swear she’s lending her hand to some outside force that needs a tool for expression. I’m not taking away from my daughter’s part in the process. I marvel at how she seems to invite this creativity in. She sits back and lets it happen. She isn’t overly critical of her work. She goes with the flow.
When I listen to my son play the guitar, I’d swear that something outside of him is controlling the way his fingers move along the strings. Again, I am not knocking my son’s role in the playing, rather I am stunned by how this playing seems to come through him from somewhere else.
So it is with me and writing.
Sometimes.
This isn’t about the level of expression, the technique, or even the caliber of my writing. It’s about the process.
(If I said anything self-deprecating or disparaging about my own writing, the universe would likely pass me up for a more open ‘tool’.)
When I was writing the first draft of this book I’m about to self-publish, I felt this whiplash-like pull – like I did on the night of the ‘hot-water’ post.
I had a vague idea of where I was going with this book, but more often than not, I’d sit down to the laptop, and stuff would be flying from my mind through my fingers and I can’t honestly tell you that I know where it came from. I’d finish a chapter and put it aside for a day or so, to work on a new post for the blog, or focus on homeschool stuff.
After a couple days, I’d get on Twitter to see what was going on in the little corner of the world that I follow, and I’d see some of the themes that I’d just written about. I’d see things that made me wonder if folks had been reading over my shoulder as I typed. I wouldn’t discover word-for-word paragraphs I’d typed, but I’d find an expression of a common thread – a thread I felt compelled to discuss in my own book. It was a new angle or approach to a thought I was dealing with, at the same time, in my own writing.
I pictured a huge pool of thought or wisdom or ideas floating around us all, waiting for someone to put their twist on things.
The universe wants us to make progress while we’re here. It has the tools to help us make that progress. The universe needs messengers to put words to those tools, in an effort to help guide our journey.
Just like with recipes, there aren’t any new recipes, just new versions of the same recipes. The same can be said for philosophies of self-improvement or the study of relationships. We keep reading about how we need to follow our own path, but we keep trying different books to see if a new author’s perspective helps the message sink in a little better.
And then it hit me about creativity, and this force from the Universe, and my daughter and her drawing, and my son and his guitar.
There is a collective energy floating about us that is waiting for an enthusiastic, open ‘tool’ who is interested in willingly expressing whatever that collective energy has to say, at any given time.
Children are naturally open to expression. In a nurturing environment where they are encouraged to let loose and experiment, it’s amazing what kids can create.
Then as they get older, they hear criticisms from a teacher or a well-meaning parent or a thoughtless friend, and they put up walls to that collective energy. It’s too risky to be open to expressing. What if someone doesn’t like what I draw? What if I can’t play the guitar as well as someone else? Suddenly the fun of expressing is overshadowed by the risk of potential criticism.
And then the collective energy is left to float and find a more open ‘tool’.
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I’m afraid of horses. Snowmobiles are noisy. I was never coordinated enough on roller skates to be at the end of the line for ‘crack the whip’. I never did manage to get up on water skis.
But I have felt whiplash, on the rare occasions that the collective energy has found me. It grabs me by the collar and sets me down in front of the laptop.
Most times, I can’t wait to see what comes out, even if it does land me in hot water.
I am so proud of you! Glad to see you opted for more potential hot water. :)
Alyson,
It was due to your encouragement that I published last night. : )
The hot water is kinda nice this time of year.
Add some bubble bath & enjoy the soak. :)
Thanks for having the courage to tune in and let the Uni work it’s magic.
Lisa,
Excellent idea! Maybe I’ll even light a couple candles.
Thanks for stopping by. :)
Wow. Yes, I know exactly what you’re saying, both for myself (getting up in the middle of the night because something is trying to get out of me, and will wake me up until I either allow it to be captured, or it decides to go away for a more propitious time or vessel.)
When I go with it, I’m surprised with the results, and much, much happier with me.
Bruce,
Sometimes, I read back over some different posts where that happened to me. After reading them, I literally think to myself, “That doesn’t sound like me. I can’t believe I wrote that.”
Sometimes, not often, but occasionally, I’ll even say, “Damn! That’s good!” Don’t want to be a narcissist, you know. :)
It’s an amazing process. The trick is opening up the channel and just letting it happen.
Such resonance with this post. Being open to being the tool is such a great reminder. I’m grateful for that whiplash!
Peggy,
Thanks for commenting!
I wonder if the energy passes us by when it finds so much ‘junk’ going on in our minds? Too much resistance?
Ah… the whiplash is sweet!
The metaphor I came up with last year is that ideas float around us like so many soap bubbles, shiny and iridescent, floating hither and yon, but unless they come in contact with some surface, they pop, and there is no evidence of their existence. That’s what we do when we write things down. We are holding a piece of paper against which the bubble can burst, hopefully leaving a mark that will be remembered. The art of the writing is to be at exactly the right place at the right time to write down the essence of that bubble, and maybe the next one, and the next one…
How exciting Jesse! I am so glad for us all that you are writing a book. Wonderful.
Bruce,
The image of the iridescent bubble is beautiful.
I see kids running around excitedly trying to catch bubbles, and too many grown ups bogged in the mundane routine to even notice there are bubbles floating by.
Thanks for sharing that insight.
Geez Flora,
Thanks, so much, for the encouraging words.
Nice to see you here, again. :)
YAAAAAAAAAAAAY! I’m so glad I found you (via Misadventures with Andi). You have just summed up my week: writing, universe stuff, creativity…
…and how did you know that I sprang out of bed at 2:30 a.m. today with an idea for a friend that I had to email her, that actually turned out to be an idea for me.
A teacher once told me that the universe always says “yes” – if we put out positive, the universe will agree. If we crush ourselves, the universe will agree.
So good for you for getting out of bed and putting those words down. Good for me for writing the memoir that’s scaring the heck out of me to write, for playing the harp at a church service this morning though it was -15 Fahrenheit (God love Minnesota), for living our lives with a YES.
I’m totally following your blog from now on. You’re my new muse! Thank you.
HellOOO Amy!
It’s so nice to see you here. I’m awfully glad this post spoke to you. It felt a little woo woo when I was writing it, but my gut told me I was right.
Nothing like having the Universe nodding happily when she sees us heading down our right path.
Stay warm!
Jesse
The bubbles made me think of the bygone Maggie. She LOVED to leap and snap at the bubbles when the kids were playing with them. Hope she’s finding lots of bubbles where she is.
Pat,
Yes, now she can reach ’em.
This post was great & yes, I know what you mean :) I’m slowly getting back into the process of writing again. It takes effort after it’s been neglected for so long, but yes there are times when I almost feel as if I’m a tool giving voice to something else.
Congrats on the self-publishing thing! That’s something to really work toward and look forward to. Would LOVE to read your work when you’re done :)
Hi Jenn,
Just yesterday, I was telling my son that writing takes practice, just like skateboarding.
The muse speaks more clearly through a toned muscle. It’s like any muscle that needs repeated exercise.
I finished the book in August! Here’s a link. Seeing My Path.
Thanks for asking. ;)