My Own Center

For years now I have been struggling to find focus, definition, a goal, or some sense of purpose. Creatively speaking, I have been yearning for a specific discipline to center my work in. However, every time I’d come to the conclusion that it’s music or more specifically singing or maybe even writing, I would feel a great sense of loss for those things I was relegating to the backseat. Instead of feeling sure and fulfilled with the choice I was making, I felt an emptiness. It would seem right until I started to remember my love and passion for all the other sorts of art making that I do. One problem has been that I don’t want to be too much of a generalist, a novice at many crafts, a master at none. Being spread so thin amongst so many art forms has felt too chaotic and ungrounded. I have been struggling. In order to help myself along, to find some clue as to what this calling is and what I should do about it, I have read multiple books on creativity, on being an artist, on what it means, what it takes to succeed. These books have helped to an extent, they have soothed my fears, helped me take a closer look at the ways in which I sabotage myself, and have given me greater resolve and inspiration to make something of my creative urges. However, they have not proven to be the source of the deepest questions I continue to ask myself, they have failed in telling me exactly what to do and how to do it. Not that I consciously expected them to hold such personal and specific wisdom, though an unconscious part of myself secretly hoped they would. Answers to such questions are rarely found in the external, which my mind/ego finds quite tragic. Answers such as these are usually found within. The journey within, to the essence of self where the truth lies, seems like a lot of hard work, especially when we have never learned how to do it. Often times, one must be patient for insights to emerge as layer after layer is slowly revealed or like a riddle the answer is deceptively simple, so we don’t see it right away because we are looking for something far more complex and convoluted. It has taken me years to realize that there is no simple answer to my dilemma. The answer I’ve been seeking has remained elusive, because on the one hand, I am not ready for it and on the other, there is no answer to be had. That said, with the help of books, inward journeying and conversations with loved ones, I have come to a small revelation of late, which in it’s beautiful simplicity has released some of the pressure I’ve felt all these years to find a sense of direction. I am the creative project I have been seeking, I am the grounding, the focus, and the sense of purpose. I have been slowly discovering and remembering the shape of myself beneath the stone. It has been a glacial process, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes harrowing, always deeply rewarding. Being alive is in itself an act of creation, and as I work on myself, that which I am becomes ever more apparent. As I become, I open to the work, to the task I came here to do. By creating myself, I am readied to birth the currents of heart and spirit who want to emerge through me. As I continue this process, my way will be revealed. All I must to is remember to have patience, to be compassionate with myself and to remember the importance and validity of being my own center. From there, I am better prepared to share the gifts I’ve been given and to be of service to all my relations.