Home

Home

So much input. All this information flying around, vying for attention with all the other bits of data circling my head like a bunch of prehistoric vultures. Where should it all go? What are the hashtags to assign to each piece?

At work, someone else has already decided what information is useful and what isn’t, and where it should be applied. But here, I’m on my own. This is what Creativity is really like. A whole massive mess of undifferentiated chaos, pressing hard, demanding to be made into a form it alone knows it should take.

Decisions are vital. This is where the abstract becomes real, becomes material. When the wave is the particle. I love that metaphor and use it all the time. Artistic licence. The idea that we spin reality like a fluff of wool is spun into a thread and our attention and our preconceived notions are our spinning wheel and our spool.

I sit and wait for the world to settle somewhat, for the solidity to return. It takes a while. I panic in small spaces between the world being real and solid. What if I get lost between here and there? What if I fall down the abyss of non real and can never find my way back?
I read about the super massive black holes and space aliens manipulating whole star systems and nod sagely to myself, see, I say, it’s all true, it’s all true. I’m not really sure what is true, except that my imagination has been echoed out there in the wide world. Someone else had touched the hem of the same story.

The step between the creative genius and intractable insanity is the width of an ant’s breath.

I fall back to the level of my training. Feel the solid surfaces around me, wait for the feedback that tells me I’m not dreaming, sense my fingers falling into the solid wood of the table even as I can see with my own eyes that they are only touching the surface. Panic. Start again. Count backwards from 10. It always helps. 10, deep breath, 9, I am real, 8 I am real, 7 exhale, 6 deep breath, 5 I am real, I am here, I’m alive, I’m me…I move my eyes in counter clockwise direction three times and finally feel the alignment settle within me. I breathe.

The colours and shapes, sounds and tastes and the sheer complexity I have just experienced in less than 2 minutes of creative flight is so extraordinary I will never be able to explain or describe it to anyone, including myself. The great out there is so vast that to step a small way into it is to get lost. It reminds me of when I was a child, learning how to swim in the big sea. Stepping more than couple of meters into the sea seemed indescribably dangerous, even with family all around, poised to leap to my rescue in the ankle deep wash.

The next step is always the scariest.