Creativity is a little shit.
Why doesn’t it show up like a food craving? When I want salty or sweet my gut instinct is always right. I know exactly when I need a hot tea with a warm chocolate chip cookie versus an iced tea with some hummus and chips. Writing should be that simple. But it’s distant and changes its mind. Creativity appears as a vague awareness, similar to nausea – the kind that makes you wonder if you need to eat or can’t eat. It’s unsettling and inconsistent.
I get frustrated.
I get mad.
I daydream of epiphanies and the possibility of writing just one piece that goes viral and doesn’t embarrass the shit outta me.
I doze off.
I love and hate the inner turmoil of writing. The strong stages of doubt and the rally of a burst of words that become an essay. I think the sports folk’s equivalent is: “The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.” It reminds me of the tides.
My journal says:
Write everything that shouldn’t be written.
Write what you wish you didn’t know, what you wish you didn’t feel.
Write the ridiculous and the insecure.
Write in the dark—write in the light
I’ve started to write like I believe but I publish with caution. I can’t tell if
this attitude built the writer or the writer built the attitude. The
answer doesn’t matter as it’s manifesting nonetheless.
Checking the moon phase and the energy associated with the current astrology helps me. It gives me reasons for my arbitrary and sometimes downright unstable direction to the pieces I’m working on.
“Ohhhhhh,” I tell myself, “That’s what’s wrong with my head today.”
One thing that’s certain is time and with every cycle of the moon there’s a corresponding phase of how I feel within my writing practice (and life in general).
Write in the dark—write in the light.
The New Moon in June falls on the 13th. While most people consider the Full Moon as the most magical, and I love it too, consider this month’s new moon as a fresh phase for writing. The New Moon is when the earth, sun, and moon align in a way that the moon is not visible. Astrologists say that while the sky is much darker, the other stars and planets are easier to see. I like to use MoonGiant to keep up with the phases.
Imagine the immense power in something that can’t yet be seen?
Light-workers and spirit seekers believe this is an important part of the lunar cycle—it’s a time of rest and renewal. A spiritual time of cleansing. Everything that could have been manifested through this phase has been completed. The new moon is a popular time for meditation of what’s next, spells of intention, and an exhale of solidarity. Release what was difficult, let go of that struggle, and open your creative spirit to another magical cycle to come. After all, life’s a gift.
We’re in constant supply of new ideas and possibilities. Between the new and the next full moon these possibilities have the capacity to build and strengthen to peek at the following full moon. I wouldn’t mind setting a goal or two on it with a friend. As each night’s moon slowly becomes more visible we use that image to meditate, write, and develop collectively into intense writer’s magic!
Gather your sacred supplies. For me it’s mostly candles but I’ll definitely throw in a couple of healing crystals when I feel called to them. Get your bare feet on the ground and connect to that earth (Earthing is a thing). Do it at night during the mystery of the darkness. Let your mind wander and wonder over the sounds, smells, and what’s next on your page.
While I started today thinking about the irritation and seemingly intangible nature of writing phases I was reminded that it’s just that—a phase. Thank goodness for the certainty that my work, emotions, circumstances and life in general are in constant motion. As for the idea of a new-moon-to-full-moon writing and mediation collective, I say just reach out to a friend and let’s all give it a whirl.