The Quiet Path to Creativity
I started practicing yoga more than 25 years ago. I learned that holding
a difficult pose required not just physical strength, but a still mind
and conscious breath. Over time, that conscious breath would become
unconscious, softening into something natural and unforced, leaving me
in a quiet, empty space where my meditation practice was born.
In meditation, for me, reaching this comfortable space is a time of
spontaneous creativity. What I feel in my body comes to me as images,
but it’s not like watching a movie. Images present themselves in a felt
sense: a paper heart dissolving in water, pink flesh turning to bubble, a
beautiful knot of rope sitting deep in my hip. I’ve always been a
visual thinker, inclined toward weird, wonderful, and unexpected
connections.
That’s been true since childhood. I have been drawing and painting since
I was young. Recently, I came across a framed drawing of mine from the
first grade. It was a cat with its paw on a mushroom, its face half
turned away — a difficult perspective for a five year old. How did I do
that? Where did that inspiration come from?
On my first ever silent retreat, I was delighted at how these images
allowed me to feel and see my body in a new way. The images that popped
into my mind became guides in my own healing, and the artwork that
emerged from that period reinforced a profound shift in my life. I knew
what I had to do, and my art helped me express it.
Now, each time I sit, I’m thrilled if an image presents itself. It can
keep my art practice invigorated for a day, month, or even years.
Sometimes it’s as simple as the inspiration to add a flash of orange to a
painting of blue water. Other times it’s as involved as using a
silicone brush to make thousands of tiny bubbles in and around floating
bodies. This year, I have one of
my paintings featured in our annual fundraising auction, inspired by floating in the ocean like seaweed.
Seeing my childhood drawing of the cat and mushroom reminded me that
even at a young age, images arose in me before I fully understood them. I
simply followed my creative impulse and drew what appeared. I’ve come
to believe we all have this capacity to create.
In the three articles below, each writer explores creativity in their
own world, and how it meets them. I encourage you to read them, and then
find space to pick up a crayon, a pencil, or even a stick on a beach
and move it across a surface, expressing whatever you’d like. What you
create doesn’t have to mean anything to anyone but you. Trust your body
and let go of your expectations, following the joy and healing doing so
can bring.
—Sharon Kosen Davis, Account Representative, Lion’s Roar
