Welcome to Bliss! I invite you to step into, dance into, leap, hop and skip into a world that you had only just imagined. Guess what? It is as real and fantastic as you are. It is being created moment by moment and breath by breath with your ‘no limits thinking’. What would it be like to live your Bliss, full out? If you knew you could experience the highest truth of who you are, what could possibly hold you back?
In this here and now present moment, YOU are the creator of your own masterpiece; the artist and art of your own design. No person, place or thing has more power over you, than you. You are the one who wields the symbolic paintbrush, crayons and markers; with infinite hues from which to choose. The canvas is bare each day when you awaken and you are called on to create your day, precious moment, by precious moment, drop of paint by drop of paint. Even if you were told to color inside the lines, I encourage you to go over the edge from time to time. In this excerpt from The Bliss Mistress Guide To Transforming the Ordinary Into the Extraordinary, you will get a glimpse into my experience with the realm of creativity.
The Servant of the Creation
“Th e world is but a canvas to the imagination.”
—Henry David Thoreau
I am a voracious reader; I come by it genetically and by inclination. My favorite genres focus on transformation, spirituality, sexuality, sci-fi, relationships, and the lyrically (and sometimes quirkily) poetic. A few years ago I picked up a book that contained some of the above.
Within short order, this travelogue of the heart that took the writer on a one year journey to Italy, India, and Indonesia became a worldwide best seller. Eat, Pray, Love was penned by author Elizabeth Gilbert. Immediately attracted to the familiar, conversational style with which
she draws the reader, I felt as if I was being carried along for the ride without need for passport or inoculation. I attended a presentation that Liz offered in New Hope, PA. The topic touched me to my core, since it was as if she and I were sitting face-to-face exploring the nature of creativity. She waxed both philosophical and practical about the ways in which our ideas come. One particular concept that latched hold was that while those of us who write, sing, dance, paint, draw, and design may believe that it is we who are creating, we are really the servants of the creation. Our artistry comes through us and not from us. I often state emphatically that “my writing writes me.” It uses me as a vehicle and voice to find its expression in the world. In spiritual terms, I sometimes say that I am God’s Typist, and as 13th century ‘ecstatic’ Sufi poet Rumi refers to it—a “hollow reed.”
I find inspiration EVERYWHERE! It can be while cleaning a closet, sweating at the gym, in conversation with a friend, driving on a highway, reading someone else’s words, writing my own,
floating deep in dreamland, or meditating. It arrives in unexpected ways and from
unanticipated sources. I welcome it from wherever it has traveled to make its way to my door.
According to wikipedia, “Inspiration refers to an unconscious burst of creativity in a literary, musical, or other artistic endeavor. Literally, the word means ‘breathed upon’.” I like the idea of
being breathed by the Divine.
I was listening to the radio in the car last week and Rod Stewart burst forth with “Every Picture Tells A Story.” He grabbed me and took me on his worldwide whirlwind that was far grittier and less poetic than Liz’s trip, but along I went. It occurred to me that not only does every
picture tell a story, but every story paints a word picture. Although I used to claim that I wasn’t an artist, I can now retract that statement. As a writer, I have been told by readers that I do indeed paint word pictures into which they can step, dance, drift, or dream. When I set fingers to keyboard, I can imagine—eyes closed of course—that I am holding in my hand the wisp of a paintbrush. Sometimes dipping it into subtle colors, I more often plunge it into
outrageous-jumping-up-and-down-look-at-me vibrant hues that splash
across the paper begging to soak them up. Whew! Just typing those words gives me an intake of breath and causes butterflies to dance within . . .
So, I ask you:
What creative force within you is calling out to be recognized?
Have you answered the call or told it nobody’s home?
How have you squelched your creativity?
How have you celebrated it?