On Art, and Finding a Way Home
I think art of any kind has to do with finding one’s way home, that is, back to oneself perhaps for the first time. Art often helps connect heart and mind, to find the story one is searching for.
How many times have you written a line and thought, hum….wonder what that means, or wonder where that came from? There is a beautiful synergy that happens within the unknowing, one that’s hard to discover anywhere else – the creative alchemy (ha!). I might say more about this, but talking about it seems to cloud that particular clarity each of us owns about why and what we write, or create.
Writing a poem, for instance, is like coming into a house by the back door, walking through and out the front door. When I turn around and look, I recognize the house, but I’m also usually surprised by something I’ve not noticed before.
I seldom know if a piece of writing is good, in the conventional sense, because all I really know is that it felt necessary to write it at the time.
The archetypes, the natural world, conversations and everyday observation are prompts, of course. I know when something of significance has presented itself because I want to comment about it, tell a joke about it, or a rant. A feeling arises that lets me know some connection has happened, so I need to listen.