that has certainly been my experience, too – art kind of scooping me up and taking me out of those troughs of confusion and overwhelm.
most of all, writing poetry does that for me. it seems to bring to the fore whatever perspective i need to contemplate at the moment. sometimes that perspective is bleak. but by giving it shape through words and rhythm, it turns from something that i would otherwise be tempted to judge as “bad” into something that simply exists.
once i’ve brought the words outside into the world, what i’ve written feels often quite three-dimensional and dynamic. it’s something with its own personality. like a tree, a lake or a caterpillar, it has its own existence, one that is neither good nor bad.
as another commentator said, our lives are creative projects. the act of writing helps me remember and comprehend that on all levels: hand, heart and mind. the poem starts in the pit of the heart, is shaped by the mind, birthed by the hand.
conversation is similar to that. yesterday at the fireside chat we had a few moments like that, when as a group we seemed to help and prod each other along to explore and play with ideas that normally we’d perhaps not touch on.
“you just gotta think outside the box,” said c.
“or inside it!” said k.
when, as it’s typical among us artist types, the usual call is for thinking outside the box then thinking inside the box is actually an example of thinking outside the box.
we can also imagine the box as a frame, and then think around the box. and this ivy up here, is it thinking/living/growing inside, outside, or around the box?