Part of me wishes that the inspiration to write would hit me differently. Perhaps it could slowly glow like a budding sunrise. Or, even better, strike my curiosity like a lazily fluttering butterfly flapping itself from poppy to poppy. But, unfortunately, my inspiration to write behaves much, much differently.
I will be minding my own busy, task filled existence when suddenly something changes in the psychological wind. My brain, a grazing gazelle, snaps to attention. It surveys the mental landscape, aware of danger but utterly unable to locate the source. Inspiration growls, a predator of teeth, claws, and camouflage. Then, the pounce! Inspiration, the lion, hurtles from the dry grass in a snarling fit of starvation driven fury. My mind, the gazelle, leaps to flee! The sudden peace is now a chase of life and death. Tasks are flung aside, short term memories erased, and song names forgotten. The beast closes in. The mind darts left, hoping the importance of its to-dos might save it. Emails, bills, anything to stay on task.
But there is no saving. The lion of inspiration lunges upon the rear of the mind, dragging the bleating animal to the earth in a cloud of dust and limbs. The rest need not be described.
Suffice to say, my inspiration is utterly destructive to my ability to remain focused and functioning in the omnipresent task-wheel. I succumb. I am chased, mauled, and dragged off into a tree somewhere.
I think I have felt this more acutely since the birth of my daughter. I attribute that to the fact that my tasks are now crucial to her thriving. (Survival, if we’re honest) and the daily functioning of our household. There are things that must get done and cannot wait. And that’s okay. The gazelle has realized it has horns. I would not say I fight off my creativity with joy, though. Perhaps I have picked the wrong metaphor. But for the first time in my life I feel that I am truly fending it off. By doing so, I worry I may be keeping it a bit far out of reach.
What if, one day after too many horns and not enough chase, my creativity vanishes? What if it melts away into the grass, never to return?
In the grand scheme of it – this blog post is written to say that I am human and struggle to balance my creativity and inspiration in a seemingly constantly demanding world of tasks and responsibilities. It is very, very hard to ride the waves of color and inspiration while simultaneously re-wiping the countertops at speed to then get out the door. My creativity stalks me. It’s omnipresent, and yet pervasively destructive to the goals of the moment. I want it, and I reject it. I accept it, and I regret it.
So it hurts to say – but I’ve kept it at bay, I’ve had to. And I’m still struggling with the balance of that.
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