Excitement and the Creative Process (Blog #677)

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Yesterday I blogged about how excitement comes at the beginning of a new endeavor, a diet, an exercise program, a writing project. My point was that, unfortunately, the excitement doesn’t last. Inevitably, boredom sets in. Maybe the results aren’t coming as quickly as you’d like. (Do they ever?) At that point, you have to make a choice. Am I going to stick with this thing or not? Do I mean business or don’t I? In terms of my experience with this blog, I know I’m rarely excited about sitting down and pounding out five hundred or a thousand words on the daily. Thankfully, the excitement I initially felt when starting this project has–somewhere along the way–been transformed into something better, something akin to fondness and belief. That is, I’m fond of this project, fond enough to show up here day after day. Likewise, I believe in this project, and that belief, I think, is ultimately what’s required to sustain any longterm endeavor, be it a blog, a healthy lifestyle, or a relationship.

More on this shortly.

Last night my dad, who’s overweight and notorious for saying, “I’ll start that diet or exercise program next week,” actually went to the gym with me. No shit, walked in the front door of Planet Fitness, put his hands on his hips and hollered, “IS THIS THE JUDGMENT FREE ZONE?” Oh my god, y’all, I NEVER talk to anyone at the gym, and Dad waltzes right in there and starts making friends. The next thing I knew, he’d signed up and was getting a tour. When I signed up, I said, “I’ll show myself around, thanks.” Anyway, it really was fabulous having him there, even though we worked on different machines. In a room full of strangers (or rather, people you refuse to introduce yourself to), it’s good to know someone. It’s good to know someone’s in your corner.

Now it’s 9:15 in the evening. Fifteen minutes ago Dad asked if we were going back to the gym today, so I’m trying to type fast so we can. Personally, I don’t mind going at midnight, but Dad prefers to go earlier. And since I got up this morning at 7:30 for an appointment with my massage therapist and chiropractor, I don’t mind saying it would be nice to workout before I mentally turn into a pumpkin.

This afternoon I washed my car, Tom Collins, for the first time since I injured my knee two months ago. It’s weird the things you take for granted when your legs work, like being able to vacuum your backseat or scrub your tires with a cleaning brush. Anyway, it really felt super, giving Tom a good once-over. Plus, the sun was shining, and that really puts a smile on my face. Ugh, the sky has been so gloomy lately. I keep telling myself, Spring is coming. Just wait, spring is coming.

This evening I went to a local bookstore, Bookish, to hear my friend, writing instructor, and local author Anita Paddock speak. Anita recently wrote not one–but two–true crime novels about murders that took place right here in Van Buren around 1980 (the year I was born). Well, she’s in the process of finalizing her third true crime novel about four people who were also murdered here in Crawford County around 1980, and tonight Anita gave a group of us a verbal outline of the story and read an expert from her book, which should come out this summer.

Y’all, I can’t tell you what a shot in the arm it was to see Anita tonight. Not only is she a wonderful presenter and storyteller, but it’s always inspiring to see someone you know succeed and be supported by their community. Dreams come true. People are in your corner. Plus, going to a bookstore is my version of going to church, and I got both inspired and excited about a few writing projects that I’ve been putting off for, well, a long damn while now. Not that I haven’t been thinking about them, but I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself. I think, This has got to be good, and then I never sit down to start because I’m too afraid. What if it’s not good? In short, I “dig in” and “get serious” about potential projects–two things that are good to do, but not right away–before allowing myself to be excited about them first. The result, sadly, is I end up squashing my dreams before they have a chance to take hold.

You need excitement to jumpstart you.

Since I was inspired and excited tonight, I immediately took action. First I called a friend of mine about an idea I had. Then I went to another bookstore (that was still open) to get more ideas. Y’all, this was so much fun for me, just thinking about possibilities. This is the great thing about excitement–it thinks everything is possible. For a creative, this is absolutely necessary. You need excitement to jumpstart you, to carry you into the hard work, which–no doubt–will come. And hopefully by that point you’ve grown so fond of your project, that you won’t turn back. Hopefully by that point you’ll believe so much in what you’re doing–and, more importantly in yourself–that you’ll keep showing up regardless of mood, regardless of whether the sky is gloomy or the sun shines bright.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Allowing someone else to put you down or discourage your dreams is, quite frankly, anything but self-care.

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On Life’s Seasons (Blog #484)

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It’s nine in the morning, and I’m still in Somewhere, California. I survived the night and actually got some rest. I just went down to the lobby to grab coffee, and this motel appears better in the daytime. Not great, but better. From the looks of it, the only thing this city offers is a pit stop. Just a place to gas up and rest your head on your way to a better place. For me, that better place is San Francisco, which I plan to roll into later this afternoon. I’m blogging now so that I can have time to get there, maybe explore some used book stores, and find my bearings before the dance tonight.

Not last night but the night before, I dreamed that I was in a large, decorated warehouse that was mostly green–green walls, green comforter on the bed, green everything. Hanging from the ceilings were a few orange and red flags. The owners asked my opinion, and I said, “There’s too much green. It needs balance. More fall colors.” Later, I was in a swamp, and several people were carrying a casket. (This is where things get violent.) Then I took out a shotgun and shot the pallbearers. Blew their faces right off.

It was an absolute blood bath.

Frightening, I know, but–upon waking–I actually thought that last part was delightful. My therapist says that dead bodies in dreams represent the parts of your psyche that are no longer beneficial or helpful, and in mythology blood always represents new life. So the fact that I was taking a shotgun to the pallbearers (whom I generalize as “not useful” and just there for looks), tells me that I’m done with being fake (both personally and with regard to others). Give me something new, something real.

I’ve been reading about the stars and seasons lately, and there’s a lot of talk about festivals. In spring we have easter to commemorate new life, and in fall there is (or at least used to be) Michaelmas, a celebration of the Archangel Michael that honors the end of the growing season. In the Jewish tradition there’s Passover in the spring and the Feast of Tabernacles in the fall. But the point remains the same–there’s a time for spring and a time for fall, a time to be born and a time to die. Balance.

Endings are just as important as beginnings.

With this background in mind, I think the two dreams I had were communicating the same thing. In the first one, part of my consciousness was saying, “There’s too much growth (green) in your life. You need more death (more fall colors.)” In the second dream, it was more obvious. Grab a shotgun! I don’t mean to be morbid here. It’s not that I’m celebrating death. But I am starting to recognize that ENDINGS are just as important as beginnings. In fact, they’re necessary for beginnings. If I hadn’t divested myself of most of my worldly possessions, how would I have room for whatever is coming to take their place? How could the spring occur without first the fall occurring and then the long, cold winter?

Primitive people recognized this fact. It’s gross, but it’s why they sacrificed, why they were cannibals. Death makes room for more life. Endings create beginnings.

Sometimes I worry that I won’t get to wherever it is that I’m going. It’s not that I don’t see progress in my interior and external life, but it’s like I get to a pit stop and think, What if I don’t get to my better place? But surely the planets never think this way, wondering whether or not they are in the right place at the right time. I’m in such a hurry to be “somewhere else,” to get to my summer, my sweet spot, but I’m reminded that even the earth couldn’t rush her seasons if she tried. So I’m going to try to follow her example, to stay steady and sure in my orbit, to let my seasons come and go, to give each one its due respect.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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