The
Creative Breath
By Dr.
Linda Seger
As artists,
we spend years learning and doing our art. We practice, rehearse,
take lessons. We put our focus on the creative act, whether
painting, writing, photographing, dancing, sculpting, composing or
playing music.
Yet, there’s
another part of our creative work that gets far less attention, but
can be just as important. It’s the moment before we start. Sometimes
this moment can be filled with anxiety – rushing to get to the
computer to write, the flurry of words, trying not to forget the
idea or the phrase that will make our work brilliant. Trying to get
the painting on canvas, the musical notes on the page, to capture
the idea and the form.
But this moment
need not be frenetic; the frenzied moment can actually work against
the flow of our work. Instead, this can be the moment when we
prepare for, and set up the conditions for, the flow of the creative
process. It’s the moment when we take a breath, gather ourselves,
center ourselves, and dwell in a space of silence. Or the artist
takes a moment to take in the dimensions and look of the empty
canvas, before filling it with form. Or the writer stares out the
window, not so much deep in thought but deep into the quiet before
the thoughts come. Or the photographer stops for a moment before
taking the photo to hear that small voice that says, “turn around,
the photograph is behind you!”
We might think
of this moment as Centering or Gathering. For those who are
spiritual, it might be the moment of Tuning In to the Creator, or
getting in touch with the Creative Energies that we see as implicit
in life and in the creative act. One of the descriptions that might
ring true comes from the first book of Genesis in the Bible. Right
before God created the world, right before the Light began and all
the other splendid creations, we’re told “The Spirit of God was
moving over the water”. Sometimes the word used is “sweeping” but
the more correct translation is actually the word “hovering”. The
Spirit hovers before the moment of Creation much like an eagle
hovers over her nest. She broods. She warms the egg right before
it’s hatched. It is not a violent motion, like a lightning bolt or a
Eureka clap of thunder, but a moment of waiting.
This is a tender
image. It implies standing still. It’s calm. There’s no sense of
hurry or the frenetic whoosh-whoosh that sometimes comes when we
approach our work with desperation or fear. Sometimes this moment is
one of seasoning, or waiting, or letting something simmer. We move
into the rhythm of the process, almost as if the creation we’re
about to do has to first be breathed into us. In some spiritual
teachings, it is said that true creativity and true change can only
happen in the space between the in-breath and the out-breath. That’s
where the magic happens.
I first became
aware of the importance of this moment at the Maui Writers
Conference many years ago waiting to hear from professional
photographer and inspirational speaker, Dewitt Jones. His topic was
Creativity. Right before he spoke, he was sitting in the front row
over to the side. He seemed remarkably calm. There was a sense of
solitude around him. It was clear that he was not creating a space
for people to come up and talk to him, but creating a quiet space
out of which he would speak. Something was happening there. What was
he doing in that space, and how much of that beautiful and flawless
speech was attributed to those moments he took before he began
speaking? It seemed he was tuning into that quiet voice that
sometimes leads us into unexpected directions, or simply surrounds
our work with the presence of the Muse.
Some master
piano teachers spend time with even proficient pianists discussing
the approach to the piano – that moment of sitting quietly at the
piano before the playing begins. It is the pregnant pause – filled
with anticipation and possibilities.
Artist Dean
Andrews calls this moment “circling the fire”, a slow circle before
actually digging into the project. She calls the frenetic moment
“vacuuming the garage,” which seems to accomplish very little. We
can prepare for these moments, opening up the space for the art to
begin.
The image of
this waiting is almost like a glassblower preparing to create the
glasswork. The breath comes into us that enlivens us, that speaks
through us. Sometimes we might think of gathering our thoughts, but
in this moment, the mind is more empty than full. It is expectant
without being desperate. This has little in common with cramming for
a test, or filling our mind with form and content. You don’t push or
tug at it. You’re preparing to let it happen.
For those of you
who are Spiritual Creatives (and perhaps many of you are) this may
be a sense that the Spirit breathes into you so you can let the
breath out into the New Creation. For a few of you, this waiting and
letting it happen might come naturally. But perhaps most of us have
to practice learning to wait, as much as we practice our art. We
prepare for the Opening, for the Flow, and learn to work out of the
Quiet. Out of the Hover. Out of the Creative Breath.
Read other articles and learn more about
Dr. Linda Seger.
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