Spirited Woman Blogger Team

Guest Blogger - Sheila Bender - Are You Worrying About Your Creativity?

This may be why:

Without it you feel disinterested, uninteresting, apart from,
Without it you feel sad and overburdened by responsibilities,
Without it you feel frustrated by not being able to express your higher self.
Without it you feel only a fraction of who you are.
Without it you feel bored.

Being overscheduled and overburdened with activities and musts encourages worry about finding the spark that ignites feelings of joy and freedom.

Luckily, this spark is not extinguishable. It is an eternal light and burns whether you are watching it or not. What is important is finding a way back to allowing the spark of creativity to once again light your path.

Four Easy Exercises for Finding the Way Back:

- Sit in a place you don't usually sit. What looks different to you from this vantage point? Make a sketch of it or write about it.

- Make a visit to someone you haven't seen in awhile. Bring something along to start a conversation. Tell the person you are visiting about the object you brought and what it makes you think about. Ask her what it makes her think about.

- Move something around in the rooms where you live. It can be big or small, a piece of furniture or an ornament or counter top appliance. Every time you pass this moved object, you will notice yourself noticing it. What does that feel like? What thoughts does surprising yourself this way bring up?

- Make up a name for something that doesn't have a name - the way people smile when they pass on the street even when they don't know one another, for instance. Or the way someone else's dog licks fingers to say hello. Think about instances in which to apply this new word. Have fun with the invented word.

Coming at things in fresh and unexpected ways is a way to step back on the path lit by creativity.

Here are sources for more ideas on igniting creativity: Sarah Zielinski's article for NPR offers five ways to spark creativity. There are also a number of captivating Ted Talks on the creative spark.

The above post is Sheila's final post in her three-part series on the "Courage to Create."

Sheila Bender, www.writingitreal.com
Click here for more of Sheila's posts.

Sheila Bender has taught writing at colleges, universities, public school classrooms, writer's workshops and conferences, teacher training events, and private seminars. This fall she will be a distinguished guest lecturer at Seattle University teaching Poetry and Spirituality. In addition to writing and publishing poetry, memoir, essays, and instructional books, she has been a contributor to Writer's Digest magazine and The Writer. Her work has appeared in the Associated Writing Program's Writer's Chronicle. 

 

Guest Blogger - Sheila Bender - Where Does Creativity Start?

What does creativity mean to you? Our distinquished guest blogger, writer/teacher/lecturer, Sheila Bender begins her three-part weekly series on "The Courage to Create." Now, get out there and be creatively courageous!

The dictionary definition of creativity includes the phrase "to produce." But what if for you creativity doesn't start with the idea of a product? What if it doesn't even start with the idea of a making? At its beginnings, creativity may not include labor at all. Instead, it may require only space -- space inside you where judgments don't intrude, a place of wonder, of awe, of whole-hearted engagement.

In that place, your being is compelled to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell all that is available in the moment. When you are in this place, you do not summarize experience or say something is "beautiful" or "ugly," "joyful" or "sorrowful." Instead, you notice there is pale sunlight on the cedar tree trunks, a feathery texture to the individual green leaves; or, hear the pecking of a woodpecker, the coo of a dove, perhaps the howl of a coyote. You smell the trees and what comes are memories. These may be about the chests your mother used to stow winter clothes before summer. The exhaust smell of cars that passed you and your friends by as you walked to school. The crunching of leaves under foot, as if you kicked a pile of them. The taste of apple cider your family drank from visits to a nearby cider mill. Before long, through observation, "being here now" becomes "being in many places at once."

These combinations of now and then produce creativity - a painting, a poem, a dance, a song, a scarf, a conversation. Born out of the experience of wonder, your creativity becomes luminous, almost other worldly, an intelligence you did not know you had until you let your Spirited Woman essence out.

It may seem hard to escape the meaning - making, prioritizing, judging and editorializing of the adult mind and find that place inside you that holds the "all at once." By making sure you practice observation, however, you will more easily clear away the mind that can suffocate creativity. And it does not take long to practice this.

Whenever you can, name one image that each of your senses is taking in.  The perfume of a flower or the aftershave of a passing man, dryness in your mouth or the lingering flavor of garlic, for instance. Make a practice of performing such observation several times a day and you will find constellations of images and memories flooding into your consciousness. You will notice more and more the presence of wonder. This is the creative spirit coming forward.

For more practice in observing, try some of the exercises in The Pen and The Bell: Mindful Writing in a Busy World by Brenda Miller and Holly Hughes. You will enjoy the writing practice ideas they post online.

Sheila Bender, www.writingitreal.com
Click here for more of Sheila's posts.

Sheila Bender has taught writing at colleges, universities, public school classrooms, writer's workshops and conferences, teacher training events, and private seminars. This fall she will be a distinguished guest lecturer at Seattle University teaching Poetry and Spirituality. In addition to writing and publishing poetry, memoir, essays, and instructional books, she has been a contributor to Writer's Digest magazine and The Writer. Her work has appeared in the Associated Writing Program's Writer's Chronicle. 

Morning Fires

On some mornings, love is the only thing that exists and this poem keeps its song alive.

MORNING FIRES

I awoke this morning
with the world in my heart,
far-reaching skies of sun-dipped clouds
the vaulted ceilings for stirring vale and forest
and vast oceans surging toward the shore,
with silver-backed dolphins
their beaded and dazzling joy.
How many of you have known this fullness?
Shaken off the night and so, too, the cloak of too many despondent musings
and the troubles that wear thin your finest soles?
Today you move like a song lifting the ordinary with its delicate verse,
your eyes alight with some new wonder —
the memory of the hand that reached so softly for your sleeping form
and untangled the knots of your yearning
to weave moonbeams in your hair
and soothe your burdened brow
with the cool satin of stardust.
And so you greet this day with a brave translucence,
a dangling trust in your unclenched fists.
Do not be deterred by the razor’s edge
or the crow’s portentous call.
Make this your prayer of gratitude.
Where you would hoard this fresh contentment
from the one who has been more thorn than fragrant bloom —
strike a match.
Love’s awakening demands a conflagration.
There is no selectivity when the Beloved’s gaze has found yours
and kindled your heart
to a wild and raging tenderness.

- Naila Francis
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Plant a Melon and Harvest a Melon

I usually think that writing, painting, or practicing my instrument for a performance is hard, but not after watching the contestants at the Olympic Games.

The Chinese say “If you plant a melon, you’ll harvest a melon; if you plant a bean, you’ll harvest a bean.”

The meaning is clear, your success will always be in proportion to the effort you invested. However, on the Olympic field, hard effort might be enough to qualify, but not for winning medals.

To have a chance of winning, one must endure what the Chinese call bitter practice. This is the melon you must plant. In the past, children with talent began to be trained when quite young. Instead of childhood games they had bitter practice. The result was the immense skill to sing in Chinese opera, perform acrobatics, or win in the Olympics.

Is it right to raise a talented child this way? There are arguments on both sides. Some are bitter as adults, but they still enjoy their fame. Great achievement always comes at a price.

A Chinese poem illustrates this:

The best sword’s shiny sheath comes from endless polishing
The most fragrant of plum blossoms come from the bitterest cold

Mingmei Yip, http://www.mingmeiyip.com
Click here to read more of Mingmei's posts.

Rising Above Adversity with Lines

I just went to an exhibit of one of the most renowned modern Chinese painter, Wu Guangzhong (1919-2010).

The reason I like Wu’s painting is because he was one of the few modern painters whose work is affirmative. Throughout its more than 1,000 year history, Chinese painting, with only rare exceptions, always created a serene atmosphere and showed in visual form the inner peace that can be obtained by self-cultivation.

In contrast, what we are shown as contemporary Chinese painting tends to be sarcastic, even nihilistic. It is questionable if it is even Chinese in any meaningful sense because the styles are derived from Western art. The art world suppresses any art that is not sarcastic by controlling art magazines and museum exhibits. This has been very effective for marketing with much contemporary work selling in the tens of millions.

Wu’s art has not a trace of these elements, but it is not sentimental, either. He was the modern Chinese artist who most successfully used traditional imagery but brought it into the modern world.

The effect of traditional Chinese painting is created by the interplay between line and space. Chinese artists were geniuses with lines, from delicately brushed calligraphy to the Great Wall itself. Wu modernized Chinese brush lines by making them longer and more convoluted, flowing in very intricate patterns as if enjoying their freedom. Critics have suggested that he was influenced by Van Gogh and Gauguin, but to me some of his paintings share striking resemblance to those of by Jackson Pollack in their dynamic use of line.

The Chinese say, “To prepare for one minute on stage, ten years labor off stage.” Like any successful artist, Wu’s success required years of hard practice, but unlike most artists he had to survive persecution during the Cultural Revolution. Forced to leave his wife and abandon his brush, he was sent for hard labor in the country side. Lest he be labeled as bourgeoisie or reactionary, he secretly destroyed all of his nude paintings.

But Wu was able to rise above all these adversities. He said somewhere that a hard life can mature a man and give him wisdom. When I look at his wonderful work, which is above all cheerful with dots of bright colors, I sense the same cosmic energy that enabled him to persist despite all his hardships.
Maybe that’s why every time I look at Wu’s paintings I’d feel invigorated and hopeful.

Mingmei Yip, http://www.mingmeiyip.com
Click here to read more of Mingmei's posts.

One Cooking Lesson I Will Never Forget

My mother was very proud of her cooking – nothing fancy but very tasty.

Now when I look back I greatly regret that although Mother had cooked for me for almost four decades, I can’t remember any of her dishes except one – pan fried red snapper.

However, there was one of her cooking incidents that I’d never forget. One evening my father, as usual, was out gambling, even though he was already heavily in debt from his previous gambling. That night, Mother cooked for the three of us even though he was not home. I don’t remember any of the dishes, only how much effort she put into cooking them.

Even though our the family didn’t have much money left, Mother decided she would splurge on one lavish meal after so many frugal ones -- we didn’t know if there would be any money for our next meal, let alone a nice one. Even though Father was away, we’d enjoy the food together and there would be plenty left over for him when he returned.

But when Mother was carrying the steaming dishes to the table in the living room, the door bell rang. During those days, our only visitors were usually not friends but debt collectors. Frightened, Mother’s hands shook and all the dishes fell. Meat, fish, vegetables crashed to make pretty but no longer edible blossoms on the floor.  

We didn’t pick up the dishes but held our breath and waited till the intruder’s footsteps vanished. Of course we went to bed with none of the food in our stomach but only in our imagination and maybe later in our dreams.

I don’t remember if Mother ever cooked another lavish meal after that. But from then on, I never wasted even a grain of rice  – or anything else for that matter.

Mingmei Yip, http://www.mingmeiyip.com
Click here to read more of Mingmei's posts.

Are You Deaf?

When I was younger, I was quite judgmental.

When on a bus, or the street, or the ferry, I’d mentally dissect  other passengers on the basis of their appearance or their manner (to me). Wouldn’t that middle-aged woman look better if she would lift her mouth, so that instead of looking like a capsized boat, it would form a pretty crescent moon? And that young girl if only she would pluck her downward-slanting brows so that instead of looking depressed, she’d look cheerful and energetic? What hadn’t that old man had surgery on that  bad-luck mole right underneath his eye which looked a big black tear?

But then two incidents taught me not to be so critical of other people. One time I went to visit a friend and found that she had a guest, a young girl, who was living with her temporarily. The girl was very quiet, polite and didn’t bother us. But I decided that I didn’t like her based only on one reason. She swung her feet all the time – eating, talking, writing, reading. The Chinese say, “Swinging trees have fallen leaves; swinging people have no luck.” Because people who constantly rock their bodies will not achieve anything of importance.

When the girl was out of the room my friend asked me how I felt about her and I told her how annoying she was to me. 

My friend looked shocked. “Oh, that poor girl, you don’t know how much she has suffered! She swam here to escape from China; her only brother was eaten by sharks on the way. She had no one when she arrived. Our church took her in and helped her find a job in a factory and rent a room. But because she was not fast enough, she was soon fired and got behind in paying her rent. One evening when she went home, she arrived to find her door locked. Her landlord had thrown all her belongings onto the street. She was now homeless. So I took her in until we can find her another job. The doctor feared she might commit suicide and put her on medication. That’s why the swinging.”

It took another incident for me to fully learn my lesson. When I was an assistant professor at the Chinese University, three or four times a week I’d take a van up the hill to the University Library. I liked to browse the rare books there, but not the young man who checked my identity. He always looked at me suspiciously, maybe thinking I was a student pretending to be a professor. But then when I asked him questions he never replied, only started at me.

One time I was so annoyed that I blurted out, “Are you deaf?”

But he still didn’t reply, only stared harder at me with blank eyes!

Then later when I happened to mention this to a colleague, he looked completely shocked. “Oh, did you really ask him that? Everyone knows that the poor guy is deaf.”

Mingmei Yip, http://www.mingmeiyip.com
Click here to read more of Mingmei's posts.

Forgetfulness Soup

A Chinese legend tells us that after people have passed away but before they go on to reincarnate, they arrive at Helpless Bridge.

Guarding this bridge is Grandma Meng who will offer you a bowl of Forgetfulness Soup. If you accept this soup and gulp it down, you’ll forget all the troubles, miseries, and sufferings in your life that has just ended. But if you have the courage to refuse the soup, you will remember everything into your next lives. Some want only to forget, while others -- especially if they had wealth, fame, a beautiful wife or handsome husband -- choose to remember.  

Some refuse to drink the Forgetfulness Soup because their heart won’t let them forget their loves ones. Ironically, sometimes the one you love the most  is not the one who bears you children and shares your home. For a hundred different reasons, the two of you could not spend your life together.

And there are those who cannot makeup their minds – to remember or to forget? Should I drink and forget or decline and remember?  This moment will decide your memories – or lack of them – for all your lifetimes to come.

But there is a third choice. That you don’t eat the soup but wait on the bridge for your loved one to join you. Because one day he or she must also cross the bridge. If you remain, not only will you delay your chance to reincarnate and remain a ghost for a long time, but because there are always so many crossing the bridge, you may miss each other forever.

When your day comes, would you drink this Forgetfulness Soup?

Mingmei Yip, http://www.mingmeiyip.com
Click here to read more of Mingmei's posts.

My Great Uncle's Advice

I had a Great Uncle who was like a second father to my own father. Great Uncle was a famous general during the Sino-Japanese War but when the war ended he became a school principal.

Great Uncle possessed a trait that most military men don’t – a great love for art, especially painting. This greatly influenced his daughter who became a famous muralist in America.

Decades ago in Hong Kong, when Great Uncle learned that I was taking painting lessons, he would often send me art books from Taiwan. Each book was attached with a note explaining a certain artist’s style which made him or her popular. He always reminded me that I should take time to develop a style that was my own. The art books were usually included whenever he would sent a letter to my father.

Twenty-five years ago when I was a professor of music in Hong Kong and my father having passed away years ago, a friend invited me to visit her in the United States for the summer. The last day of my visit, it suddenly came to my mind that Great Uncle should be living right here in the city I was visiting.

I remembered my father had mentioned that in his old age, Great Uncle had moved here to be with his painter daughter. But since I’d lost all contact with Great Uncle for so many years, the only thing I could do was to pick up the phone book and look for his daughter. There were all together four with the same name, so I tried one by one by asking, “Are you so and so’s daughter?” until I hit the jackpot!

Unfortunately my joy was shattered when the cold voice at the other end of the line said, “He passed away last year.”

Tears filled my eyes. I’d lost my chance to thank Great Uncle -- who gave me all the art books and great advices on paintings – with whom I had never had the chance to “rub shoulders” on this Red Dust.

But fortunately Grand Uncle’s “Don’t imitate the others, be original and find your own style!” still lingers in my heart.

Mingmei Yip, http://www.mingmeiyip.com
Click here to read more of Mingmei's posts.

Meditation in Painting

Mingmei’s Guan Yin painting

Recently I showed my Guan Yin (Chinese Goddess of Compassion) paintings to a friend who works in the media but is also a painter. He was very  complimentary about my work, especially the fastidious strokes and the multiplicity of colors.

“The brushstrokes and the delicate colors are amazing. However, you must be very patient. Could you even breathe while you were doing this painting?”

I laughed. “Painting is hard work for me, but not tedious. What I really enjoy is placing the strokes and watching the colors of the picture slowly emerge upon the empty paper before my eyes.”

I explained, that because painting takes absolute concentration, it can be a form of meditation. My mind empties of trivial nuisances and is complete with the painting, moment by moment. It may sound like a cliché, but I really feel that I become one with my strokes.

Since Guan Yin is a Buddhist Goddess with whom I feel a very strong personal connection, sometimes I feel I have arrived at the still point that is nearest to the truth. So instead of feeling bored, this is as close as I can be to actually being enlightened.

Mingmei Yip, http://www.mingmeiyip.com
Click here to read more of Mingmei's posts.