The Creative Spark
Let me begin by acknowledging my bias. Carl Jung is a problematic figure. He was certainly a misogynist and may not have attributed proper credit for ideas and innovations that originated from his female coworkers.
Granted all of the problems with the man, I find his ideas compelling. I've come to believe that working toward individuation and integrating the broken and shattered bits of ourselves into the greater whole may be the thing of most fundamental importance in my life cycle.
Working toward individuation or enlightenment, evolving toward wholeness, I believe to be a beautiful work. Finding purposeful work on a day to day basis, something that resonates within the core of our being, is also a beautiful ideal.
I thought I'd found mine. I learned to use my art as a fundamental tool in working toward that goal. Dreams, meditations, shamanic journeys, have all fed that desire for evolution, a dream of wholeness.
When I seriously began pursuing art, it seemed like everything was clicking into place. My art seemed to resonate with others. We're all on an endless journey of self discovery, seeking to evolve into better versions of ourselves.
If my art could spark something in someone else, that gave it more purpose and meaning. It gave me purpose and meaning. I wasn't just screaming into the void. I was moving with intent and resonance.
Then, this year happened.
I tend toward being an even keel kind of person. I don't really get excited about much, but I also don't tend to get depressed or anxious. I think it's just a fundamental piece of who I am. Until this year.
I felt like I hit a wall, creatively speaking, around May or June. Even as restrictions started lifting around the state, I became more and more uneasy. I think I've been operating in a state of low grade depression for months without really realizing it or understanding what it means.
So many artists that I've talked with seem to be in that same state. They were spending less and less time in the studio. Art wasn't exciting them with the same creative energy that it once did. Inspiration was gone.
This weekend, I felt the stirring of an idea and it motivated me in a way I haven't remembered feeling in months. I don't know if this sweet little spark will stay but it has given me hope. The fire isn't out. The cave walls are still waiting. The possibilities are still there.
I needed to remember that the current state of the world isn't permanent. This sense of oppression will lift. The fog will clear. My creativity energies may be at a low ebb, but I know that my inner well of inspiration is still there. I may find it harder to connect but I can.
We will get through this. We will get to the other side and life will be better. I'll find things to look forward to again. I'll find pleasure in little moments and I'll feel that creative urge. I will make things and the things I make will go into the world and maybe speak to someone else.
I believe in our potential. I believe that we can be better. I believe that we can continue to evolve into our best selves. I will believe in you and hope you will believe in me.