Henri Matisse

I have heard many wanna-be writers and artists say they are waiting to be inspired. They can only write or draw when inspiration strikes. Unfortunately, that is not the real world. If we wait for our muse to come, she may never arrive.  She is a fickle mistress who has her own agenda and cares not for our needs.

The key to finding your inspiration and to being creative is to work every day. Maybe it is for a half an hour or an hour, but one must do the work.  And when you least expect her, your muse will arrive wearing dancing shoes.  She will lead you into the heart of creativity and dance until your feet grow tired and your limbs ache.

And after your muse has left and gone to visit other lonely artists, don't throw your work away even if you feel that what you did was terrible. Let it sit and come back to it later and you will see it in a different light. Creativity is a process. It is messy and unorganized.  To produce great work, one must produce junk.  To achieve great work, one must fail again and again.    

Creative work is not easy.  Our conscious mind works against the spirit of creativity.  Our conscious mind attempts to distract us from the deep spiritual work by sending us to the refrigerator or demanding that we wash the clothes and vacuum the carpet.  We must be vigilant and not be deceived. 

May your muse fill your heart with joy 

and your soul with the spirit of creativity.

Harley King

Have you ever listened to silence? These days it is hard to find silence because there is so much white noise. Even in nature there is little silence. We hear the wind, the insects, the birds and the animals. We fill our days with noise from the moment we wake until the moment we sleep. We turn on the television, plug in our iPods, and turn on our computers. 

And some of us are afraid of silence. If silence appears in a conversation, we become nervous. Many of us can't be home by ourselves without turning on the TV or the radio so we have noise. And cell phones allow us to stay connected to human voices so we don't feel alone even if we are deep in the woods. 

I believe silence is a good thing and that we need to find ways to enjoy it more. As an artist and writer I need silence to hear the voice of my muse. Too much chaotic noise blocks the sweet voice of my muse. Do you run from silence or have you learned to appreciate it?

Words can not always communicate what I feel. Sometimes silence is the best response to what happens.  As a writer and speaker I live and breathe by the word. In the beginning was the word and I felt whole. But I have also learned that there is power in silence. Too many words can confuse the communication. I need to allow time for silence. 

Silence allows me to process the tons of information that enters my brain. Silence allows creativity to take root and grow beautiful flowers. Silence allows for reason to prevail over ignorance. Silence helps me find my way through the maze of life. Silence opens my heart like a flower in the morning. 

Take time to enjoy the silences of your life.  Learn to appreciate and love silence.

Masaoka Shiki

"Take your materials from what is around you — if you see a dandelion, write about that; if it's misty, write about the mist.  The materials for poetry are all about you in profusion."

— Masaoka Shiki

Japanese Poet

1867 - 1902

Commentary

Where do you get your ideas for your writing or your painting?  Are your ideas rooted in the world in which you live?  Has that maple tree in your backyard shown up in your painting?  Has the dragonfly or the butterfly appeared in your writing?  Look around you.  The world is yours for the taking.  Be sure to incorporate it into your creative work.



Even if you paint abstract paintings or write surrealistic poetry, you can take your inspiration from the world in which you live.  Nature is full of opportunity to explore the meaning of life and other philosophical questions.  It also teaches us practical lessons that we as humans need to learn.  What can you learn from the squirrel or rabbit or deer?



Human frailties can also be a great source of inspiration whether you are painting or writing.  What are you learning from the people in your life?  How are you applying these lessons to your art?

Creative Practice

Take 10 minutes everyday and write or paint something that you normally don't write or paint.  Take your subject from what is around you.  Maybe it is a dandelion, or a squirrel, or an oak tree, or even a spider.  Or take something you normally write or paint and change your perspective.

About the Poet

Masakoa Shiki (Tsunenori), considered one of four great Japanese poets, was born into a samurai family of modest means in the castle town of Matsuyama on the island of Shikoku.  His father, Tsuneanao, was an alcoholic who died when Shiki was five years old.  His mother was the daughter of a Confucian scholar who became Shiki's first teacher.  She was forced to teach sewing to support her family.  At 15, Shiki became involved in the Freedom and People's Rights Movement and became interested in being a politician.  He moved to Tokyo in 1883 to live with an uncle. While in Tokyo, he discovered baseball and enjoyed playing.  He entered the Imperial University in 1890 where he studied literature and eventually concentrated on haiku.


When Shiki was 22, he began coughing up blood and adopted the pen name, "Shiki," the name of a bird that according to legend coughed up blood as it sang.  He dropped out of the university and began working as haiku editor for a newspaper, Nippon.  Shiki suffered fro tuberculosis the last 14 years of his life.  He went to China in 1895 as a war correspondent in the First Sino-Japanese war.  Living in filthy conditions in China, Shiki grew worse.  He became bedridden in 1897.  The illness worsened in 1901 and he began using morphine as a painkiller.  He died of TB in 1902 at the age of 35.  


Haiku by Shiki


spring rain:

browsing under an umbrella

at the picture-book store


a look backward

at the person who went by —

misted out


the nettle nuts are falling . . .

the little girls next door

don't visit me these days


ways of the world,

may he never know them,

the toad


lifting my head,

I look now and then —

the garden clover


to awaken

the hot-water bottle, barely

warm


how much longer

is my life?

a brief night . . .


a barrel full of phlegm —

even loofah water

will not avail me now


Biography  & Haiku Sources:

Beichman, Janine. Masaoka Shiki. Twayne Publishers (Boston). 1982.

Hoffmann, Yoel. Japanese Death Poems. Tuttle Publishing (Boston). 1986.

Isaacson, Harold J. Peonies Kana. Theatre Arts Books (New York). 1972.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masaoka_Shiki

Quote Source:

Beichman, Janine. Masaoka Shiki. Twayne Publishers (Boston). 1982.