I am writing today, not because I feel like writing but because I feel like I need to write. There are so many other things that need to be done. There are causes to fight for and an election coming up and two wars to protest and my partner is on her way to her first big conference as a vendor for her small publishing company. My bed is unmade, the dishes pile up in the sink, and I need to decide what to fix for dinner. It’s a matter of priorities. And because all these other things take priority on so many days of the week, I decided that what I need to do first is write a new blog entry.
It’s so easy to become inspired by a class, an eloquent speaker, a well-written book, a passionate poem. How fine it is when the fire is in the belly and we know, not only what we want to say, but what needs to be said; what the world needs to hear. Somehow we’ve stumbled on the watering hole where the answers lie magnified and crystal clear at the bottom of the well, and all we have to do is draw the water. And keep on drawing. If we can just keep it up, we can help. We know we can. We do have something to offer. We have these gifts. The answers are right down there. See them? They’re right there. Our proposal, book, screenplay, installation will be ready in, say, six months or a year. Of course, you’ll need another year or so to find a publisher. Once you do, it will take another year to see the work in print. And then, if it’s still relevant; if the world still needs an answer to that particular question...well, we’ll get back to you on that. You know, it’s starting to look like I might as well go ahead and bake some oatmeal cookies for that potluck, sweep the floor, wash the clothes, and clean the petri dishes out of the fridge.
There are so many things I could be doing right NOW. The Arkansas Adoption Act is going on the ballot and we need to protest. There’s a peace march next Saturday I have to attend. Why, this Saturday alone, there are five different activist organizations I support having potlucks, membership drives, and rallies. Not to mention that I could save money if I spent more time expanding my garden, cooking all my meals at home, riding my bike to the library. I’m sure my family and friends would love it if I would emerge from this closet I call my study for more than a couple of hours a day. The question isn’t so much how, but why do I keep doing this?
The short answer to why we persist in our creativity in the face of adversity, and in a world that so blatantly discourages authenticity, originality, slow food, home-cooking, and the long answer is–we can’t help it! We crave what is real and can’t be satisfied with short cuts, fake solutions, spam and american cheese on white bread. Quick solutions to big problems: war, the economy, global warming--don’t cut it for us. Part of us knows deeply and intuitively that creation took billions of years and that our evolution as whole human beings will not come quickly either. What we CAN do is begin, and then persist.
Of course, we don’t persist in our art, our writing, to the exclusion of all other work. All work is, or has the potential to be, creative. That is the highest achievement of a life fully realized. We don’t want to compartmentalize our creativity. We want it to be part of everything we do. But part of growing that originality is practicing it, and the place to start is with your art. THE PLACE TO START IS WITH YOUR ART! How quickly, once we begin to truly practice our art, we find our creative, authentic selves showing up in other areas of our lives. Our friendships seem to involve those of like interests. We hesitate less when a workshop or class is offered that might benefit our writing or painting. The book we need falls off the shelf or is handed to us by a bookseller or a friend. There just happens to be a volunteer position on the local literary rag or someone sends you a request for submissions.
Suddenly we find we do have time to flip a few pancakes for peace. We can spare $20 for the local AIDS foundation. We have an hour to spend on the fridge or putting dinner in the slow-cooker. We ask our partner or a friend to share a writing exercise, an art idea, or a gardening project. We watch a movie or read a book in a whole new light, as a learning experience and not merely entertainment. What can they teach us about ourselves and what we are striving to do in our lives? (If the answer appears to be “nothing” turn off the movie, close the book.) We begin to look at our lives in terms of the long view; not what we can accomplish in a week so much as what we can accomplish in a year or two, or even a lifetime. Maybe we stop focusing on what publishing house will pick us up and make us famous and begin to consider what individual will be touched by our words, will take comfort, or find some help, some hope in what we have to offer.
Who out there will be inspired by our persistence? Everyone who knows that, despite the fact we raised three daughters, home-schooled them and got them into college; or that we suffer from a chronic illness, or teach biology to a bunch of restless adolescent boys, or write boring technical manuals, or expend precious energy painting houses to pay the bills, we also maintain a creative practice. We produce! This is amazing! This is admirable! This, my friends, is noble. What you and I must remember is that the very things that seem to (and sometimes do) drain us, also feed us. Challenges stoke the fire of our persistence. What appear to be obstacles, charge our batteries and will not let us quit. They are signs, daily reminders, that our work is needed; is needed now, will be needed tomorrow, will still be needed years from now when it is finally finished. Believe....
