1 year ago
Sunday, October 3, 2010
A Job. My Job.
There are so many different schools of creative thought. How do you do it? Where does it come from? Is it talent? Is it a gift? Is it about the audience or the work or the product or what?
I was given a gift today by a believer- I say believer because it's the belief that something exists that sparks the process that results in the creative product.
This gift was a TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert. I am a fan of hers, and now you could call me a disciple. She preached a creative doctrine that did not just speak to me as a message, it summed up my essence in such a way that I felt understood and an understanding of myself that happens only when I am traversing a precipice, active and conscious of stepping from one evolutionary lily-pad to the next. It has happened before- and like Elizabeth Gilbert, one of these was with Tom Waits... but that's a different story...
so just like when my mentor and inspiration on legs Terry McMillan gave me Po Bronson's WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH MY LIFE? years ago, I watched this Ted talk and felt acknowledgment and reinforcement and understanding sitting side by side next to my muse. In their laps were all of the puzzle pieces for me to assemble the who, what, where, why and how and even the how much of my creative process.
It's no accident that a favorite show of mine- 6 FEET UNDER - Alan Ball of course, spoke to me in one of the final episodes where Claire was directed from beyond the grave to tune out the static and hear the message. Life happens, incessant drama, rife with clutter and daily messes tugging and dictating and demanding we parcel our hearts and minds out to tackle every little thing to make our moments just so. It's part of my job to say no thank you. I have a date with my muse. I am committed to come correct and bring it, every time. You never know when the visit will be elevated by transcendent magic and effervescence or just something else, sometimes resulting in also terrible. You don't get to know in advance. It makes sense in the rear view mirror. Like my dad always says- the hardest part is showing up.