it’s been bothering me as to why the last two days have felt like a failure. i expected that embarrassment, frustration, and failure would be a part of creative rehabilitation, but i felt none of the joy that i felt the first day. i felt so much guilt over the self-involved nature of the whole endeavor. i was missing the mark. i was breaking my own rules. it was not humility, trust in the muse, and art for art’s sake that were motivating my work, so i became blocked. i forgot that the purpose of this time as not to please an audience or produce a certain amount of stuff (to show for my time in order to alleviate guilt?). the goal is not perfection, but freedom. i spent much of the day getting my finished product onto etsy right away, which is anthithetical to my purpose.
i must create what my spirit feels stirred to create, do it joyfully, and when it is finished i must rejoice that i have created…and then let it be. i must be motivated by gratitude, and not worry about what is to become of the finished product. i must stop thinking of it as a “product” altogether. it’s an extension of myself, the gift that god has given me, and that is what makes it sacred, an act of worship. it is my diary.
this quality time set aside for the purpose of investing in the creative part of myself is much like a honeymoon. time to be honest with myself and open to the promptings of my imagination. and like puberty, it will be messy, ugly and awkward because (again) this is for growth, not perfection. it’s like rehab. there’s no room for critics here. my creativity is in its recovery stage. as julia cameron says, “it’s impossible to get better and look good at the same time.” doing bad art (and giving myself permission to do bad art) is a necessary part of the process, priming the pump for a well of good stuff. i would sooner embarrass myself by failing than to not create at all.
