Sunday, February 24, 2013

Dreaming Underwater

Creativity is the fuel for the rest of my personality. It is the part that powers me, that allows my arms and legs and brain to keep moving through the rest of my life. If I don't get in my time to consume and create art, then I run out of gas, plain and simple. It is like sleeping without dreaming--it leaves little point to waking.

I need time to soak in my thoughts, to hold my breath and explore the landscape on the bottom of my brain. Real Life floods in and crushes the air out of me, forcing me to the surface where the world stands waiting with their hooks and nets.

In short, I'm drowning in life.


They totally look like Fruity Pebbles.
They probably don't stay crunchy in milk, though.



What is the trick to dreaming underwater and not drowning in the process? Is there a way to crest the surface and suck in a lungful of reality without losing the mental, emotional, and spiritual nutrients that I absorb while I'm soaking in my own mind?

These fish have the right idea. I imagine that if I was one of them, I might start out a skinny, laggy, milky white blank-slate fish. I would swim around and around, learning from the other creatively colored fish, taking in everything about my surroundings and having increasingly complex thoughts until my very body began to change with the weight of them. I'd swell up and my fins would grow strong and fast so that I could see more, do more. My thoughts would grow ripe and throb for expression until my tiny sides would glow and change colors. I would be like the others, but also different. You would know me by my colors and the way I swam, and those things would be directly informed by the unique way I saw my world. I would be my own art, creator and created. It would make me a part of their aqueous society, not set apart from it.

Why can't people be more like my imaginary fish? Probably because we have bills to pay and jobs to do and people to please. I'm all about doing these things, but sometimes I just wonder if I can find myself a little reverse SCUBA suit so that I can suck in a few lungfuls of creative energy while I'm walking around like a fish on dry land.

Here's to the struggle, fellow creatives. You know we're all in this together.




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