Creative Recovery.

It is that precious time of year, the time of endings and beginnings, when I try to cast off the shackles of pedanticism, ignore the well-meaning but inaccurate aesthetic judgements of the imbalanced, and move boldly forward into new creative and spiritual ground. There is nothing I desire more.

Then why is it so hard?

It's truly amazing how our world of cubicle-rats is completely succeeding in its mad dash to blissful inhumanity. It is also interesting that so many people who would rather not live this type of false life are nonetheless still deeply influenced by it... myseld included.

There are books to read, movies to see, music to hear, scores to study, notes and charts and ideas to sketch, and creations to bring to life. Prayers to pray, wisdom-books to inhale like a sweet scent, and new stories to join to my own. I've yearned for this time for months, yet somehow I've come stumbling out of the starting gate.

I heard composer Michael Colegrass say that "the composer is a secular priest -- he gets his reward in the afterlife." Perhaps so. But there is also the reward of the creative process itself. There is the sweet self-given permission to play: if I want to compose 20 minutes, play a video game, compose 20 more minutes, take a walk, compose 20 more minutes, pray or read something substantive, then write some words down, then so be it. It must seem so eratic to outsiders, yet the process of creativity is seldom a straight line. It is a self-centered, and God-serving form of intense, personal play-time. To outsiders it often looks self-serving, but in the end it is God-serving. Not that the big guy has given me any choice: whenever I chance to stop, or not give it my all, life becomes miserable. No wonder so many artists are cranky.

Part of my creative goal is to learn how to do this stuff, without being a cranky or curmudgeony scrooge. Beethoven was certainly a great composer, but we know that his people-skills left something to be desired. Is it possible to be rewarded for following your passion, yet remain a person unmastered by the torrents and deep swells one must tread in order to make meaningful art?

I firmly believe that the answer is "yes," and I hope to dedicate a fair portion of this summer to figuring out how. It's difficult to accept that an evening of introspection is not the same as "being distant," nor being overwhelmed by deep emotion the same as being "depressed." Oftentimes, during these moments, I am actually at my most joyful peaks, though the external does not show it.

The road goes ever on and on... and I really, REALLY want to learn how to start enjoying the individual footsteps more, without always being blinded by the destination.