heartbeats at midnight
apart from that heartbeat
and deep, slow breaths
in and out
of your skin
filled with stardust
and other inexplicable beauty
a weird sensation
sparkling through the window
like a twinkling melody
made of starlight
running through us
to each other
and the great beyond
as we are just the dust
from an explosion
You know, as a creative you’re always looking for the next big idea. The next burst of inspiration. Sadly, as a creative, when you’re not working on that big idea, or aren’t high on a burst of inspiration, you’re often caught in your own head.
I’ve learned to redirect my thoughts. It’s been a lifetime commitment of overcoming depression. Still. I have my moments. That’s why I’ve had to learn that when they hit, I need to move my ass. Get my mind engaged in something else. Usually something creative — paint, dance, write… And fill my life with human connections. Which has been hard for someone who grew up with social paranoias. But I’ve learned. I’ve forced myself to go out when I don’t want to. When I feel like a sad mess and am ashamed of my own life. When I’m petrified of what people will think of me. Because that was my problem as a child — I was ashamed of myself. And that still hits at times. And my gut reaction is to remove myself from the world. Hide away. Which only makes it worse, because you sit there reveling in your own thoughts, instead of changing them into something positive. Productive. Something which engages you in life and makes you smile. It’s pretty simple really. It just doesn’t feel that way when you’re sitting there paralyzed by fear. So as Audrey Hepburn would say — put your lipstick on and pull yourself together. Get the high heels out the cupboard. Get your ass out that door.
Still, yesterday, I felt depleted. Frustrated. And I was getting annoyed with myself.
Then I saw this guy. Biking. Down Somerset Road. He had muscles. He had style. He was hot as hell. And I caught myself raising my eyebrows. Then I started laughing. It was that moment. That moment that starts a romantic comedy. And I wanted to write. That comedy. A spark had been ignited.
This was after a day of listening to Amy MacDonald’s Dancing in the Dark. Written by Bruce Springsteen after his producer or something told him one night that he had to write another song for his next album. He yelled he’d already written 71 songs. Then he went to the hotel room and banged this out over night. It became one of the most popular songs of all time.
I know that feeling. That feeling of having someone standing over you with a stick, waiting for your creative juices to flow. Bizarrely, I love it. Even the anger I feel when they tell me they need more. Need something different. When you’re bleeding out the last of your creative juices, but you keep working. Keep creating.
Sometimes when you go home, you feel like shit. Because your personal life had some sort of hiccup, or you were forced to do work that wasn’t creative at all that day. Or year. Take your pick. But your creativity — you have that. That spark. That something. That thing that makes you light your own fire.
So this afternoon I’m gonna dance. I’m gonna feel my own body again. I’m gonna live. I’m gonna light that fire.
You’re beautiful, remember that. You have a spark inside of you. A fire. A fire that connects you to all living beings. Because you are the Universe. You are stardust come alive.
Image Source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/507780926736097042/