Artistic expression has been a favored outlet of mine for many years. At various times, I have drawn, painted, made music, and written. And much of that artistic expression has been spontaneous. I didn’t sit and decide ‘Today I will write a poem or compose a song or paint a canvas’.
For the most part, art has always come to me in a flash: a sudden inspiration spawned by a memory or an occurrence or even just out of the blue. Often an idea comes to me full blown without any or very little work on my part.
There have been many times in the past when I would have a thought that I felt could be a true artistic expression but when it didn’t bloom into a fully developed entity, I didn’t pursue it. Recently I learned or maybe discovered that even with a tiny kernel of inspiration, I can make something out of almost nothing. It just takes work and a little discipline.
I also suffered under the self imposed rigidity of thinking that if a work was not perfect, whatever that was in my world view at the time, that it wasn’t worth the effort. If it didn’t feel right, it couldn’t possibly come to fruition. I have realized that much of that was born of my own insecurity about who I was and what I was capable of.
I have come to know that the creation of art, for me, is an end to itself. The end product, while important, is not the totality of art. I’ve learned that liking the end result doesn’t have to be of prime importance.
I have to believe that my new relationship with my artistic self is a byproduct of my yoga practice. If I show up and work at it, there is beauty in the path.