I don't cry. I'm one of those people whose friends are incessantly pointing out the therapeutic benefits of "letting go". I totally agree with them; I just don't do it.
Except tonight. Tonight I sat at my computer and sobbed. I had to get up and go get kleenex (trademark).
All because of something I know to be silly, to be trivial – but brought me to tears anyway.
These past weeks have been exhilarating and difficult for me, as I've begun to do things I never imagined myself doing. All these images, that I don't really understand, and don't really believe in. Value. Trust. Something ...
I began this in mid-March, when I came across Art Journal Caravan while looking into art journaling for my goddess-daughter. I was so intrigued that she never even got the links – I just started doing it myself. One link leads to another, and so I found Deviant Scrap.
Deviant Scrap puts out a monthly digital magazine called The Deviant Muse. I was fascinated by last month's (which is, of course, the first I saw.) Such amazing images. Such possibilities.
I downloaded the new issue last night.
Two of my pages are in it.
I'm not even sure what all I'm feeling, through my tears. Relief, that what I'm doing appeals to someone? Validation? Over-whelmed, to be sure.
Creativity is such a struggle for me. It was years of anguish before I could write without pain. Now, trying something so new, it comes back. That uncertainty, that lack of trust in my own imagination, my own intuition, my own skills.
And – what is a sixty-four year old poet doing at a place called Deviant Scrap?
She's doing this. These are the pages they published, one serious, but a bit silly; the other entirely silly:
Maybe it's time for me to engage in a bit of silliness. Well, clearly.
I'm always curious, is creativity this difficult for others? Is it difficult for you? Does the validation you receive for your efforts vanish to mist the very next day?
I'm writing – and posting – this to remind myself: don't forget.
[Click the photos for larger versions & credits at flickr.]