The Art of Creativity
One day I would like to teach about creativity. I feel there is as much to be learned from the process of writing books as there is from the books themselves. Jean Klein said that a book truly begins the moment you stop reading it. Some books move you deeply, touch things inside you, and catalyse change. Other books leave barely a trace. The difference is not in their content, but in the depth of their authors’ creativity.
The fundamental creative act is the act of focus. Somehow, the artist must become whole. He must do something in such a way that for him there is nothing else in all the world. The past and future must dissolve and be resorbed into the present. The artist must find himself wholly engrossed in now. For now is where life is, and life is unimaginably rich. The artist must touch the richness of life, and let it express itself through his faculties.
I have found wholeness in meditation. I have also found it in surfing, making love, and learning to listen. Increasingly I find it in nature. I have reached a point where I find it so deeply in my breath that the simple act of breathing can feel ecstatic. I have found it in mantra, which is the art of saying something with everything you have. Though one says a mantra a million times, one only ever says it once. It is a perfect metaphor for life.
I have also found wholeness in writing. In an afternoon of writing, I forget the world. I am circumscribed by my environment, the movements of my feelings and mind. I love writing so much that it captivates my attention entirely (for attention is love). Writing is so intense for me that often I find inspiration in the act of writing. When writing inspires me instead of draining me, then I know I am writing well.
A teacher of mine told me that I should dance before meditation. I do that now every afternoon. I shut the door, shut my eyes, play music, and dance. Dancing with my eyes closed (dancing by feel, without caring how it looks) is a magical experience. It is introducing music to the body, and feeling how they interact. I do not do anything; I simply listen, and do not interfere. Just as music makes water tremble and makes our emotions move, so it makes our bodies dance. Music has a natural physical shape, but that shape is different for each song, and each song makes different shapes in every body. If I knew more about dancing, no doubt the shapes I made would be more beautiful. But for the moment I am a happy dilettante. When I stop, and the energies settle, then the stillness trembles, and meditation is easy as pie.
One of the finest honours bestowed on men is that women allow us to lead them in dance. This is true leadership, for it is obedience. The man obeys the music, and the woman trusts the man. In real life this kind of obedience is not a gendered thing - some of us hear the music at some times in some places, and that is our invitation to lead. A leader is not a person who imposes himself on others. A leader is someone who opens himself so totally that a vision flows through him to others. A leader interprets music into dance. True leadership is perfect humility. There can be nothing petty about it.
The creative act is the act of listening. One embraces a moment without offering any resistance. Any moment can make us whole. I am learning to be whole even in things I do not relish. ‘Like’ and especially ‘dislike’ are barriers to life. Everything is an invitation to wholeness. Pain and discomfort are invitations, too. Sometimes they are the best invitations, for they are impossible to ignore. Pains in the body and uncomfortable states of mind, like unhappy children, demand our attention. Part of the reason we dislike pain is because we prefer to live in a scattered state. People spend their days distracted and entertained, spread out wide over time in order to avoid sinking. Focus is death - death to the illusion that we occupy a story. That is why many people struggle to meditate. The first moments of meditation require that we drown the midget in our minds - the midget squeals (the midget is always squealing) - then silence comes. In that silence we hear the true music.
The road to creativity is not about amplification. It is not forged through coffee or breathwork. It is not forged at all; it is found. The path to creativity opens up at the end of a breath taken fully, a conversation fully had, a meal fully tasted, a mantra fully said. You don’t need to churn up the little pool you live in: churning only makes the pool muddy. One must learn to be silent and sink, without resistance, into the sea.
La Danse
Henri Matisse