Beauty, Inspiration and How I’ve Kept My Sanity

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I’ve been thinking about beauty.

I’m not even certain that I should attempt to define the concept, because it’s just so vast. For some people beauty is defined by symmetry, light, texture, colour, consonance, harmony,  rhythm…..even taste. It can be a combination of such things and how they intermingle. For some people beauty is chemical. For others it is nothing more than a word.

When I say that something is beautiful, I’m not actually talking about the thing itself, but rather my experience of it. Beauty is a feeling I get when something touches me deeply….The way it feels in my body….The resounding echo it leaves in my consciousness. Sometimes beauty leaves me joyful beyond measure. Sometimes it leaves me devastated. Sometimes it is a sorrow that reaches so far into the depths of my soul that it is almost unbearable. However I try to label the feeling, it invariably and eventually springs me into action. I create because the feelings are almost always too much for me, myself to contain.

This is why creativity, in all its forms, is vital and often urgent for me.

Sometimes, when I am very lucky, I can channel that energy – that experience of beauty – in a way that feels wholly satisfying. When I sense that I’ve truly honoured an experience that has inspired me, and expressed it in a way that somehow feels true to form, it brings me closer to something much bigger than myself. Whatever that is, it just feels right. I wish I could always create in this way, but there are other times that I sense I am just moving energy in general, and although it isn’t as satisfying, it still feels essential. Like I am making room for more beauty to enter into me.

My default is not to keep it, though, and that seems kind of strange because why wouldn’t I want to embody that experience? Why wouldn’t I want to hold it longer or keep it for myself?

I often wonder what it would feel like to be an artist of secrets.

But the intensity is too much to bear. Sometimes I honestly feel as though I might explode with beauty if I don’t move it through me. It has to move. It’s incessant.

I worry it’s pathological.

Perhaps it’s just my nature.

I’ve noticed that I feel an incredible sense of peace after sharing an experience of beauty through a work of art. Once I’ve created something to send out into the world, I feel a stillness that is incomparable to anything else. I think that’s the reason I’m so driven to create and why work/life balance proves so difficult for me. I’ve also noticed that this energy, when misdirected, can be very destructive. But that’s another topic altogether.

Inspiration is a cycle. When somebody tells me that something I’ve created has touched them, inspired them, made them feel something….well then, and only then…..the cycle feels complete for me.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

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