Creativity is cyclical.
Even outside of these times of COVID19, creativity sometimes flies and sometimes crashes, sometimes moves easily of its own accord, and sometimes it seems like an uphill struggle. And then it changes again.
It is important to remember, as the world seemingly turns into anxiety, division and polarisation: that this too, will pass. Things that break and cannot be mended, become part of other cycles than those we have control over. Loss is the shadow of what was once joyfully held and valued. It is the closed hand clenching painfully tight, before opening slowly to embrace once more.
I am not trying to pep talk here, but to point out the perennial truth: the whole universe is cyclical, and we are each lashed to its many interconnected wheels. And it is easy to forget this when events grind slow and uphill.
It is easy to become entangled in the arguments, the chaos, and sometimes the nights-of-the-long-knives, which seem unbearable. It is easy to become so myopic looking at the screen, that we don’t notice the birdsong, the skyline, the aromas of the outdoors. Or even the piles of laundry that need a cycle or two of their own. It is easy to forget the music or literature that we have at our fingertips.
One way to move out of slump and despair, is to surrender to it: to look failure in the eye, and give it a kick in the shins. Looking after ourselves as best we can: melting down and embracing the soup of chaos, is a nutritious option. It is important to remember, though, to shout loudly against injustice and lack of flavour. One does not always have to anaesthetise against these things .
The universe is bound up in its own momentum, and the wheel of fate will inevitably turn forward at some point, all by itself. Time works painfully slowly, and in-the-blink-of-an-eye, all at once.
Connecting our senses with other cycles – day to night, the passing of seasons, sorrows and joy, youth becoming wise – connects us also, to the many turning wheels of fates. Heraclitus of Ephesus, who must have been conversing with those Ancient Persian Poets, said:
The only constant in life is change.
The earth is spinning through the days and nights. Going for a walk at dawn or dusk, is powerful medicine.
In time, the ashes of these days will fertilise the soil and new shoots will grow stronger. Summer will return: but it will be different summer, with different flowers. And almost anyone can shape a new vase out of mud.
The dust of these times will settle, and somebody, somewhere, will even complain about that. Others will write poems to the past and to the future. Even as you read this, someone is discovering a lost coin in the gutter. Flip it and see how it spins, not how it lands.
Wishing you a better view from your window, than you have today, and remember to wash your hands.