Find your muse

What if you were told you could be given a super power, anything at all?  Would you choose strength, or to be invisible, or maybe to fly or bend anothers will to your own?  I would choose none of these. I would choose creativity. Now you might be saying that isn't a super power, (yeah? tell a writer with writer's block or a singer with no voice that) that we all have creativity within us, some just to a greater extent than others. True, we all have that creative spark, at least I believe we do, that we are all gifted with this at birth or maybe even before birth - but that does not mean we all choose to light it. It does not mean we are brave enough to express it, patient enough to nurture it, or disciplined enough to see it through to fruition into its super power status.

I heard once that to become expert in anything takes 10, 000 hours of practice. That is one hell of a commitment. 10, 000 hours is a average of 90 minutes a day for 20 years. Think about that, who commits to that? And if this is true well then I am expert in TV watching, music listening, my job and mothering. None of which I would label a creative superpower of mine (although ok the 6 babies is pretty fucking creative).  I also know this 10, 000 hour practice theory has been debunked, by the one who put it forth no less, and is only one aspect of expertness. The rest being achieved by other forces such as meta learning, deliberate practice, teaching your skill, genetics, quality versus quantity. Hence, all is not lost for myself to become expert or gain my super power of creativity in say one skill (photography, writing, grieving). Hold the phone  grieving?? Where the hell did that come from? Wow, surprise! I guess there is a part of me who believes my journey here is to be expert in grieving. To have this super power of creativity in how to grieve expertly, perfectly (ergo finally) the death of my husband. If I could create the perfect way, or master the expertise needed to do this grief to perfection, it would be done, over.  I have an idea of this in my head, but I am not going to practice it for 10, 000 hours that is for sure. Only until it's over. Okay lets leave that little ditty there for now, maybe for another post when it has been mulled over longer as to why that surfaced in the first place in this post.

I would much rather have the super power of creativity in and of itself so I can apply this to all I wish to do, those things I am into now and those to come. The old and the yet to be discovered new. For now it's photography and writing. I feel this drive, this powerful urge to express express express until I am empty. It bubbles up at the weirdest times, walks, in the shower, upon waking, a hour before bedtime. And it needs to be taken care of, like an itch or a need to sing along to a song.  Anyway, no I am not manic. So how do we nurture this drive in ourselves? One way is to find your muse. I have a literary muse, I have photography muses, I have these in my life so I am using them. Like a fine bottle of wine- never let that go to waste. Use it up. saturate yourself with its generous gift of inspiration.

I am about to embark on a photography vacation. Five days totally devoted to, from sunrise to well into each night, photography.  I will live, breath, eat and sleep the craft of photography. I have not done this since I went to Italy a year after Terry died. That trip was more about proving to myself I was a big girl alone in the world now and could survive it. That I could fearlessly fly, navigate my way around the world alone, feast my eyes on beauty and replace the sorrow in my heart with it. It was also to relive our time there together  - and yes to light my creative spark again. On the trip I let go, I fully and completely immersed myself into something other than my grief and it was good. The rewards and spin offs (no fear of flying, ability to talk to strangers intimately, no fear of driving switchbacks and some damn good pictures) were so much more than I'd hoped for.  But a strange thing happened. Months home after the dust settled I lost my creative drive to photograph. I still don't know why, I told myself maybe having so much beauty to capture there blinded me to see ours here. I just lost all my desire.  So there is a bit of apprehensive (mainly because I haven't fully figured out why it happened thus if I had I would be able to correct it from happening this time) about this upcoming week of diving into creativity, surrounding myself with my muse. That I will fail again to carry it forward, that I will become stagnant.

Ah, yes here it comes, I also notice that I did/do this with Terry's death -haven't fully figured out why it happened thus if I had I would be able to correct it from happening (again).  There it is - looking at grieving as a creative skill I must master, as a perfect way to do it so it doesn't have to be done anymore.  Or hey maybe let's explore this a bit deeper (I love how writing opens up these channels of insight), maybe I took pictures and lost my heart and soul into that creative drive that first year after Terry died because it was the only way to escape, to feel alive, to live. Maybe now I need to live without an escape, just live life on life's terms now. Embrace and accept the loss, and move on. Fuck that is terrifying.  Of course it is.

Ok Sussey, take that, take this creative thought that came from writing this post and let it gel or let it slip. Create anyway. Take the risk, keep finding your muse, your super power. It does not have to perfect, it only has to light that spark.