As a working artist (a term that means more “I have a non-art job” than “my job is art,”) my non-job days are midweek, and on Mondays I am met with the challenge of tuning out the parts of my brain that operate at my employ and turning up the lights in my mind that spotlight the creative mitochondria. I would say that, with a 50-50 balance, I’m able to jump start this process on Sunday nights, however, this week the chaos that is Daylight Savings Time provoked me to instead sleep.
Exhaustion, physical and mental, happens at the same point where high emotions and high thoughts spur brilliancy. And, while I think we let life get the best of ourselves too much, crossing that fine edge and going over the threshold from hypomania into lethargy still incites the creative juice. Writing, particularly at the time of day this is being typed, seems to recover that river of energy and if nothing else divert some of the flow into a pint glass reserved for later drinking.
The hard question today, as it was last week, was where do I want to go? It sounds very corporate-positive. Very marketable. But, as humans we all have excess amount of energy and a plethora of options to pursue. The same as artist, where we have access to many versions and blends of ideas of what to create, but in the end we, somewhere, must make a decision. And not to decide is also to decide. To leave it at the will of serendipity.
Focus is a large goal for me and the idea that letting go and being overtook by serendipity seems to counter my desire to direct this machine. Perhaps letting go is left for therapeutical cliches and meditational directives. But, I think we need to avoid squeezing the fruit of our mind to make juice, and instead let it run free and drink of it what is available to us.