"Woman Carrying Water," by Leslie Frances, Innisfree, Lake County, Northern California, clay sculpture
See Creative Catalyst archive at: http://storycircle.typepad.com/scn/creativity/
As you gaze at the highest point of the Big Top, you
see the tightrope walker. She navigates the wire that’s barely visible from the
bleachers below. There’s tense silence—and then a gasp as she loses her
balance, swaying over the precipice. And then a sigh of relief as this mistress
of the air rights herself. She regains her stability with deft use of her
balancing pole.
Writers and artists require a balancing pole too.
We've discussed in previous posts how we’re in constant creative flux. Our
creative cycles move inward and outward. They can make us well centered or
unstable, much like the tightrope walker, who loses her footing from time to
time. Daily, weekly, monthly, or seasonal, our creative rhythms require
conscious balancing.
A writer’s precipice isn’t as visibly dramatic as
the tightrope walker’s. It’s invisible: a holding back and restraining of our
talent. But creative energy demands its turn in the spotlight. It shouts out
for the freedom to perform. Not releasing all that we have to do and say and be
in the world can leave us teetering.
Self-awareness allows us to hand-knot a resilient
safety net. With practice and experience, we perfect using the balancing pole
to correct the inevitable “wobblies.” For some, the balancing pole is physical
activity, for others a spiritual practice or community volunteer work. Whatever
it may be, we must seek out our personal point of balance. We don’t want to
falter too close to the precipice.
In terms of our creative practice, we need to balance cycles of being out-in-the-world time with in-the-studio times.
I became aware of this creative cycle when I was in my 20s and living in
West Africa. A Ghanaian man, who was growing into himself as a writer and
painter, became my dear friend. He taught me how to fully engage in
out-in-the-world time and then the in-the-studio time. We shopped in the
outdoor markets, reveling in the red of tomatoes and the rust-colored chili. We
soaked up the old men’s songs and stories drinking millet beer. We took simple
adventures—night walks or sitting on our metal roof under the stars. In short,
we delved as deeply as we could into the life surrounding us.
Following all this, we returned home to rest and
digest. We consciously processed all that we'd seen and learned. During these
downtime days, insights about our experiences emerged. We could see how to
craft our out-in-the-world time into fruitful in-the-studio time. We had
followed an outward path and were now able to branch off onto the inward, art-producing
path. I was incredibly fortunate to have this example early in life.
In midlife, I experienced a period I call “When the
Art Came In.” Creative energy was unstoppable; it welled from every pore of my
being: visual art, storytelling, composing, and writing.There was no way I
could not create!
The creative strategies I’d learned in Ghana were
just as effective in California. I blocked out painting days, giving myself a
personal painting retreat in effect. (At this point I was painting in addition
to writing.) To prepare, I cooked soups and stocked the refrigerator. I paid
bills, returned phones calls, and made other practical arrangements. When I
started painting, then, I could give myself fully to the sacred space of image
and story. In-the-studio time was devoted solely to my art. Out-in-the-world
time was transformed into tangible work.
When I have smaller chunks of time, I use the same
principles so that I'm fully there. It’s how I’ve learned to handle the
outward/inward cycles of creativity. It’s how I’ve crafted my balancing pole.
Your balancing pole is no doubt quite different. What it looks like, though, is immaterial. What matters is that it can guide you from the gasp of slipping to the relieved sigh of stability.
If you have comments or questions, please join in the dialog below or send me a private message at www.riehlife.com. Column written by Janet Grace Riehl (St. Louis) in collaboration with Stephanie Farrow (Albuquerque).
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