Time disappears for me whenever I write, paint, or create something tangible out of ideas that choose me. Solo time is a desire that feels necessary to my well being. But for me the elevated sense of bliss comes afterwards - in sharing and gifting what grew out of that quiet time. I feel we were created to connect, but each in our own way, at our own pace - and in the right time and season of our lives. That changes. I’m learning to accept that. Thanks Susan for this soul-nurturing reflection. Many blessings to all.
I sing around others but I only really belt when I'm alone, like in the shower or in the car. Karaoke secretly appeals to me but by design it's so public.. I don't read music but I do love fiddling around with notes and harmonies. It's definitely a creative offering.
I love to play my piano which I prefer to do when I’m alone and no one is listening, especially if I’m practising something new. On other occasions I’m happy to play for friends once I feel confident. My piano has been a constant friend throughout my life and I would be lost without it.
I love to write and to paint, both best done in solitude for me. I can lose the sound of my own voice amidst others, or get lost in the quicksand of endless comparisons to others. Walking in the redwoods is also best in solitude for me, as I can better hear and feel the trees then. I continually work on the balance and maintaining enough social connections. But the truth is, I live most fully as myself when by myself. And now as an elder, I embrace that and no longer feel the need to somehow apologize for or try to change that.
As you know, my passion is writing. I feel different, better, at my best when in the flow of writing, and that requires solitude.
The last few days were terrible. I felt depressed. My book is coming out September 1st, I can't do anything more than wait (and post some stupid stuff on Facebook trying to market it). So far, I cannot detach from the book enough to get into flow with the two projects I have already started.
I never felt like this. This book truly is like my child.
Today, I worked in a kitchen and fabricated more than 200 sandwiches. At least that was a distraction. I will see what happens Monday, the big day.
I have some external expectations and requirements that keep my need for connection more than satisfied, but have enough time on my own as well. I am in a well-balanced place right now (but financially).
I have come to recognize how much of an artist I am.
A summer ago I remembered how I was once standing in the Cathedral of Reims, looking at the stained glass windows Marc Chagall made. I always wished to paint light, pure, bright light.
The light shining through the windows illuminated the colors of the windows and turned the place in all colors of the universe. It was beautiful, just beautiful. I stood there with teary eyes, in awe, while people walked by.
In the same time I watched a video on LinkedIn in which Sir Ken Robinson shared how once a kid who didn’t really liked school became very excited when she was allowed to paint. When someone asked her what she was painting; she answered; God. But nobody knows what God looks like, was the comment. They will, in just a few minutes, she answered.
Both happenings made me wonder. I had just created a sketch of Fria, the primal Goddess of my country, she’s erased out of history. Her name means ‘De Vrije’, ‘The free-one’. Which doesn’t mean she was free to do as she wishes, it means; she who loves. It opened me for realities that had been hidden for ages.
So many times the floor had been pulled from underneath me and being loyal to my creativity has been a tremendous challenge. I did it though; I made a painting of ‘God’ of the light she is. Never thought it would be a raw sketch in charcoal.
Marc Chagall once mentioned that the stained glasses reflected his heart, through which all the colors of life could shine and enlighten the ones who perceived the beauty in it all (well those are my words and how I remember his).
I also loved to play when I was young and even worked in an entertainment park in which everyone played a role. I auditioned because I turned to much inwards. Apparently I have a tendency to challenge myself to open up …
Yesterday I realized that the deepest wound I have ever experienced might be the loss of the light and life in words …
How to answer your questions Susan? … I believe all I ever experienced and created has been one healing experience in which I stumble and fall, to see myself and find the one I am.
I often have had that feeling that I was most myself when I slipped into my creative work. Painting, drawing and writing brought me the answers I had and leaded to the words I needed to understand (worldwide often devastating) happenings and to share with others my intentions, experiences and thoughts. Being able to play opened myself to connect with others in a safe way.
My creativity enabled me to slip into myself … which is an ongoing endeavor. Speaking from the heart is still a challenge, because I look at life differently than many others. I have often crossed the bridge to the other side, seldom someone walked with me to see my side and be amazed by it.
In the ‘Just us’ chat I mentioned I could write a book about what i wish to share. Truth is I don’t want to write a book anymore, I want to be the book … I want to be my creative self, someone who loves life.
Maybe a bit of a messy answer. I trust you understand what I am trying to say.
I have been doing craft work much of my life -- mostly as a "hobby" (though I gotten paid for furniture and weavings). In the past, I have often felt most myself when I am "making" -- and I think of myself as a "maker." Many times I can "see" myself when I have a completed piece in front of me: "Oh -- that's what's going on inside my head!" I can imagine and create -- yet it is the completed piece that reflects me. In my crafts (which have included woodworking (making live-edge tables), weaving (including Tallises for synagogue), and recently needlepoint) -- I work alone, because I need to concentrate. No music or background noise, please! I've taken courses - with others - but even in a class setting I'm focussed on what I'm doing, and can only really talk when I have stopped using my hands. Even MORE true when I was doing woodworking, which can get dangerous! I like being at schools with other craftspeople (especially Haystack, in Maine) where we can visit each other and see what each other is doing, eat together and talk. But when I'm working -- I work. Even in a group setting.
I draw in the morning to fight the feeling of loneliness. I may be alone, but I don't feel alone. I also have enjoyed joining a group of people in a bar for a sketchbook club with a theme. I do feel the less distractions you have the more likely you are to follow through on a project.
I feel fortunate that music (specifically guitar) is a lifelong hobby. It feels perfectly designed to thrive alone or in an ensemble. I get different things out of both experiences, but do generally feel like I'm at my most creative when I'm noodling alone!
Time disappears for me whenever I write, paint, or create something tangible out of ideas that choose me. Solo time is a desire that feels necessary to my well being. But for me the elevated sense of bliss comes afterwards - in sharing and gifting what grew out of that quiet time. I feel we were created to connect, but each in our own way, at our own pace - and in the right time and season of our lives. That changes. I’m learning to accept that. Thanks Susan for this soul-nurturing reflection. Many blessings to all.
I sing around others but I only really belt when I'm alone, like in the shower or in the car. Karaoke secretly appeals to me but by design it's so public.. I don't read music but I do love fiddling around with notes and harmonies. It's definitely a creative offering.
I love to play my piano which I prefer to do when I’m alone and no one is listening, especially if I’m practising something new. On other occasions I’m happy to play for friends once I feel confident. My piano has been a constant friend throughout my life and I would be lost without it.
Nice
I love to write and to paint, both best done in solitude for me. I can lose the sound of my own voice amidst others, or get lost in the quicksand of endless comparisons to others. Walking in the redwoods is also best in solitude for me, as I can better hear and feel the trees then. I continually work on the balance and maintaining enough social connections. But the truth is, I live most fully as myself when by myself. And now as an elder, I embrace that and no longer feel the need to somehow apologize for or try to change that.
.
edge
.
look how the trees assemble themselves
in theatres of light
.
how murmurations twist and rise—
orchestral
choral sounds ascend
in uncontainable thrust
.
mosaics— from the darkened dust
ask us to the wordless well
.
discomfort can drink our tears,
what gives fear its name? what allows sadness its dignity from shame?
.
the world is waiting on us
to surrender to our only job
.
to sink into one another's arms
at the furthest edges of ourselves.
.
https://theseainme.substack.com/p/edge?r=46rss
As you know, my passion is writing. I feel different, better, at my best when in the flow of writing, and that requires solitude.
The last few days were terrible. I felt depressed. My book is coming out September 1st, I can't do anything more than wait (and post some stupid stuff on Facebook trying to market it). So far, I cannot detach from the book enough to get into flow with the two projects I have already started.
I never felt like this. This book truly is like my child.
Today, I worked in a kitchen and fabricated more than 200 sandwiches. At least that was a distraction. I will see what happens Monday, the big day.
I have some external expectations and requirements that keep my need for connection more than satisfied, but have enough time on my own as well. I am in a well-balanced place right now (but financially).
I have come to recognize how much of an artist I am.
A summer ago I remembered how I was once standing in the Cathedral of Reims, looking at the stained glass windows Marc Chagall made. I always wished to paint light, pure, bright light.
The light shining through the windows illuminated the colors of the windows and turned the place in all colors of the universe. It was beautiful, just beautiful. I stood there with teary eyes, in awe, while people walked by.
In the same time I watched a video on LinkedIn in which Sir Ken Robinson shared how once a kid who didn’t really liked school became very excited when she was allowed to paint. When someone asked her what she was painting; she answered; God. But nobody knows what God looks like, was the comment. They will, in just a few minutes, she answered.
Both happenings made me wonder. I had just created a sketch of Fria, the primal Goddess of my country, she’s erased out of history. Her name means ‘De Vrije’, ‘The free-one’. Which doesn’t mean she was free to do as she wishes, it means; she who loves. It opened me for realities that had been hidden for ages.
So many times the floor had been pulled from underneath me and being loyal to my creativity has been a tremendous challenge. I did it though; I made a painting of ‘God’ of the light she is. Never thought it would be a raw sketch in charcoal.
Marc Chagall once mentioned that the stained glasses reflected his heart, through which all the colors of life could shine and enlighten the ones who perceived the beauty in it all (well those are my words and how I remember his).
I also loved to play when I was young and even worked in an entertainment park in which everyone played a role. I auditioned because I turned to much inwards. Apparently I have a tendency to challenge myself to open up …
Yesterday I realized that the deepest wound I have ever experienced might be the loss of the light and life in words …
How to answer your questions Susan? … I believe all I ever experienced and created has been one healing experience in which I stumble and fall, to see myself and find the one I am.
I often have had that feeling that I was most myself when I slipped into my creative work. Painting, drawing and writing brought me the answers I had and leaded to the words I needed to understand (worldwide often devastating) happenings and to share with others my intentions, experiences and thoughts. Being able to play opened myself to connect with others in a safe way.
My creativity enabled me to slip into myself … which is an ongoing endeavor. Speaking from the heart is still a challenge, because I look at life differently than many others. I have often crossed the bridge to the other side, seldom someone walked with me to see my side and be amazed by it.
In the ‘Just us’ chat I mentioned I could write a book about what i wish to share. Truth is I don’t want to write a book anymore, I want to be the book … I want to be my creative self, someone who loves life.
Maybe a bit of a messy answer. I trust you understand what I am trying to say.
Have a nice weekend, Renee too.
I love solo creativity and everything is almost perfect such as when I explored and photographed tourist-free streets in San Miguel de Cozumel.
I have been doing craft work much of my life -- mostly as a "hobby" (though I gotten paid for furniture and weavings). In the past, I have often felt most myself when I am "making" -- and I think of myself as a "maker." Many times I can "see" myself when I have a completed piece in front of me: "Oh -- that's what's going on inside my head!" I can imagine and create -- yet it is the completed piece that reflects me. In my crafts (which have included woodworking (making live-edge tables), weaving (including Tallises for synagogue), and recently needlepoint) -- I work alone, because I need to concentrate. No music or background noise, please! I've taken courses - with others - but even in a class setting I'm focussed on what I'm doing, and can only really talk when I have stopped using my hands. Even MORE true when I was doing woodworking, which can get dangerous! I like being at schools with other craftspeople (especially Haystack, in Maine) where we can visit each other and see what each other is doing, eat together and talk. But when I'm working -- I work. Even in a group setting.
I draw in the morning to fight the feeling of loneliness. I may be alone, but I don't feel alone. I also have enjoyed joining a group of people in a bar for a sketchbook club with a theme. I do feel the less distractions you have the more likely you are to follow through on a project.
I feel fortunate that music (specifically guitar) is a lifelong hobby. It feels perfectly designed to thrive alone or in an ensemble. I get different things out of both experiences, but do generally feel like I'm at my most creative when I'm noodling alone!