Thankful . . . for Ideas

The Eye-Dancers

Nov 30

In this season of Thanksgiving, I am thinking of things to be, well, thankful for. One is power--electrical power! The other night, Vermont was hit with a heavy, wet snowstorm, and we were "in the dark" for over thirty hours. Nothing makes you appreciate heat, running water, and lights more than the sudden absence of the same. So, now that things are back up and running--yes. Very thankful for them!

But the topic I'd like to discuss in this post is something else entirely--ideas, the process, the unfinished product, the development of a seed into something more. Obviously, as creatives--writers, singers, dancers, visual artists--the finished product matters. You don't want to spend three years writing a novel only to have it come out hopelessly flawed and awful. But sometimes, I think, we tend to get too caught up in the outcome--what others will think of what we've done, how many copies it will sell, what kinds of reviews it will get, and so on. Again, those things matter, clearly. But they are not why we create. They are not why we write and paint and sing.

We create because we love to do it. Because there is something inside of us, innate, that will not rest until and unless we do. We create because, when the process is stripped away from outcome, it is fun. And it is what we are meant to do.

Think about those moments when an idea strikes. You could be taking a walk, in the shower, washing your car, mowing the lawn, playing catch with your kids, sitting in the waiting room while your oil is being changed at your local garage, watching a football game, eating breakfast. Literally anything and everything. That's the beauty of it. Ideas come when they come, unasked for and unplanned. They hit suddenly, abruptly, often with enough force to make you gasp or exclaim, "Wow. Where did that come from?"

Indeed, where do ideas come from? No one knows--it can only ever be speculation. I believe ideas exist outside of ourselves, like cosmic confetti swirling around the atmosphere, pixie dust that, every now and again, descends onto us, and it is our responsibility, and choice, to accept the gift. Because that's what ideas are--a gift. From the muse, a creator, the universe, the whims of time and place.

Once an idea strikes, once you begin the process of bringing that amorphous jumble of energy into something tangible and finished, something to share with the world, there will of course be periods of frustration, writer's block, questioning, doubting, and then editing and revising until you can't stand to see what you've written a second longer. (This will pass, eventually.)

But the creative process is also replete with countless new ideas, smaller ones, things that add muscle and sinew to your literary skeleton. That writer's block mentioned above? It, too, shall pass. An idea will come again, and the quandary will be solved. Idea upon idea upon idea . . . until the work is written, the song is sung, the picture is painted.

It is an ongoing process of discovery, exploration, full of aha moments and a sense of wonder. Why rush it? Why look ahead to the end? Enjoy it! It is a gift. A treasure from the universe to you.

And that is something to be thankful for--any time of the year.