The Artist’s Creed
I believe I am worth the time it takes to create
whatever I feel called to create.
I believe my work is worthy of its own space
which is worthy of the name sacred.
I believe that when I enter this space, I have the right
to work in silence, uninterrupted, for as long as I choose.
I believe that the moment I open myself to the gifts of the Muse,
I open myself to the Source of All Creation, and become
one with the Mother of Life Itself.
I believe that my work is joyful, useful, and constantly changing,
flowing through me like a river with no beginning and no end.
I believe that what it is I am called to do
will make itself known when I have made myself ready.
I believe that the time I spend creating my art
is as precious as the time I spend giving to others.
I believe that what truly matters in the making of art is not what the
final piece looks like or sounds like, not what it is worth or not worth,
but what newness gets added to the universe in the process
of the piece itself becoming.
I believe that I am not alone in my attempts to create,
and that once I begin the work, settle in to the strangeness,
the words will take shape, the form find life, and the spirit take flight.
I believe that as the Spirit gives to me, so does she deserve
from me: faith, mindfulness, and enduring commitment.
I believe this most of the time.
As I type Jan’s Creed the part that strikes me,
that catches my breath,
I have yearned for, cared and nurtured newness all of my life. ( I am thinking of new shoes, collages that burst out of my fingers, the first scent of a just opened tea packet, first days of school, seedlings of every sort, and of course, babies)
I think humans adore newness.
Slim tender pea shoots radiating towards sunlight. A lanky, black-eyed calf rushing to nurse. The neighbor’s fluffy, club footed new puppy. The batting eyelashes of a smooth skinned, peach cheeked newborn.
But, today, I am tending the liveliness of a nearly 55-year-old woman and honoring newness that does not look tender and pink but is enlivened flesh flushed with joy. This newness deepens as a unique manifestation in a life that has seen many days like this one before. It is ordinary, moist and willing. But, as invented and virginal as that pea shoot, unsullied by worry or temper, impervious to this pouring rain and mildewed phlox, is the readiness of my creative powers to capture and from a reality. That is the newness I am engaged with.
What do you find yourself making ready today?
Do your pencils want sharpening?
In your cyclic inner calendar, are you craving grocery bag brown paper book jackets and a new eraser?
Today is the first full day of school and my daughter is off, with her lunch packed and likely half eaten by now. My son, away in Florida, is deep in to history or statistics.
And I am present, writing my 1000 words and preparing this blog post.
Off in the garden edge where squirrels above make their work for the day by dropping black walnuts or pine cones or tennis balls, something heavy keeps falling to earth with a scurry, a chitter then a thunk.
I am digging in to the soil of my heart to tend what is new and growing, what can be harvested and what is ready to share.
Happy First Day of School to you each.