Notes on Creative Vulnerability.
I am always my own worst critic. The critiques I direct at my own ideas, actions, and artistic expressions are often harsh. I express through one medium or another, feel the vulnerability of that expression, and then recoil. "Why would I give that away?" "No one wants to hear about this." These are some of the thoughts that swirl in my restless mind. I’m sure anyone with a background in psychology could give me a succinct explanation as to why this happens. Regardless, I can’t help myself. Neither can I resist the constant pull to do the “odd” thing—the thing people say you shouldn’t do, or to take the road less traveled.
A pattern emerges where people become interested in my creation, whether in admiration or because people simply can’t resist looking at a potential train wreck. Not that I consider myself a train wreck at all, but sometimes an unconventional path can appear that way to those who follow a more traditional route. Then, I begin feeling far too visible for someone as deeply introverted as I am. So, I find myself in constant flux between my need to create and my desire to disappear. As Florence Welch sings,
But the call, it always comes
And the songs like children,
begging to be born
But, oh, I guess I got my wish
But anything, anything, anything but this.”
As creatives, I think this might be a natural cycle. It’s a cycle I’ve experienced since the close of my last creative endeavor, and it’s why I’ve delayed starting anything new. I purchased this website package last October, and only now do I feel remotely ready to use it.
Lately, though, it feels like we're turning a corner in my corner of the world. As I type this, I’m curled up in my cozy camper at a local campsite, not far from the home we’re about to sell. My mind and body finally feel as if they both have bandwidth again—stronger and ready to begin anew. I can’t help but feel excitement in the air as everything in my life is about to change.
There’s one quote that sums up the reason for everything I’ve been working to dismantle in my life:
“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”
- Henry David Thoreau
Frankly, I was paying too much for things that no longer made sense or brought me happiness. I think it's a common trap in our American lives: make more, have more, do more, never stop. We are conditioned to never feel satisfied. We forget about quality over quantity, and we’re taught to feel shame if our homes, jobs, or lives don’t live up to the marketed ideal of success. I find myself more content in this tiny camping trailer, free from the burdens of homeownership, than I ever did trying to "keep up with the Joneses." My mind finally feels free to create again. For the first time in a long time, I have the time and energy to really consider what makes sense for me, instead of what others think should make sense.
It’s funny how the mind can substitute other people’s opinions for our own and trick us into believing they’re ours.
From now on, I hope to exchange my days for the truly good stuff—the things that are special and unique to me. I feel it just around the corner, and for anyone still reading, I challenge you to do the same.
