Into the Deep
It’s been 206 days — a full 6+ months — since I’ve last written for The Creative Confidant. Two full seasons have come and gone (with another well under way!) for a break that was only supposed to be a summer pause.
For whatever reason I haven’t written for much of this time, but I certainly haven’t stopped thinking about writing. On my hiatus, I had the pleasure of working with nearly 400 creative souls in the fall semester at TMU and I was in conversation with another 14 creatives (designers, illustrators, typographers) for the podcast. I also had the wonderful opportunity to facilitate a LEGO Letterpress workshop at DesignThinkers Conference Toronto in November and had a blast with 60 designers and a room full of ink and kids toys. I even worked on a little book project that interweaved with my teaching and I made my favourite Christmas card to date.
Like so many around the world, I use the start of the new calendar year to think about where I’m headed and what I’d like to bring into the days ahead. I’m less focused on resolutions and more focused on a word or phrase, as well as visual imagery that will help me understand my values and what’s most important. For nearly a decade, I’ve made an annual 11” x 17” poster that each contain small rectangles with imagery, each symbolizing a promise and reminders to myself.
To my surprise, this year was a little different. It was mid-December and I was in the middle of finishing up my grading and admin work for the semester, getting ready for Christmas and sensing a near-burnt out state, when I was overcome with the desire to create my 2024 poster, 2+ weeks early.
The concept came to me very, very quickly and it didn’t look like any of my other posters. It felt more visceral and authentic and interesting than in years’ past. I whipped it up in only a few minutes and I didn’t change a thing once it was all on the page.
2024: INTO THE DEEP
I’m now 2+ weeks post-Jan 1 and the strangest thing happened last night. I was overcome with a desire — an intuition — to write poetry. Poetry. (Poetry?!?) I’ve never written poetry in my life.
It was 9:30 p.m. and I was in my dark kitchen toasting myself half a bagel with peanut butter and jam when the poetry wave washed over me.
I think a lot about the brilliant
(who I’ve mentioned here numerous times before) and her beliefs on the magic of creative ideas and intuition. She’s described the way so many wonderful creative people throughout history talk about moments of creative inspiration, often in delightfully unexpected or surprising ways.So if my creative genius decides to visit me on a peanut butter-filled Thursday evening, who am I to question it?
Below are the 3 poems that poured out of me and all relate to my 2024 intention: into the deep. I am immensely proud of this kitchen table poetry, but I share this not to brag about my new-found skills (who knows if I’ll ever be able to replicate the poetic creative flow I experienced?!), but to share with you my experience of joy; unexpected creative forces working behind the scenes in mysterious and wonderful ways, reaffirming their presence and their willingness to play.
Into the Deep
Into the deep
I sink deeper
deeper
deeper
down.
Stillness.
Silence.
There is nothing here.
There is everything here,
waiting to be found.
Relativity
My high school
music teacher once said:
“Everything is relative.”
These 3 words visit me
more often than they should for 3 words
uttered half a lifetime ago.
But these 3 words hold
universal truth felt by me,
felt by worlds.
Everything
IS
relative.
When I sit in the depths –
not forcing the withholding of breath
but inviting it to take its own breath –
Is when time s l o w s.
Is when noise quiets.
Is when I feel
still.It is here that I witness
everything is – indeed – relative.
And I am grateful.
Thirst
A deep, complex thirst wells up inside of me
constantly, for
This
That
The other
I’ve tried to quench this needy thirst with
This
That
The other
And it always almost always works.
But this eternal internal thirst
is never satisfied. Never goes away.
Never.
Which makes total sense
because, of course,
this forever thirst
cannot be fooled into
the molding of a modern world.
This un-thirstable thirst
can never be fulfilled
through consuming
outside of myself.
This ancient thirst is older
than me,
than you,
than the dinosaurs,
than the universe.
This wise thirst requires
the immersion,
the swallowing
of myself
into something bigger
outside of myself, still.
This unshakable thirst
understands
even if I don’t.
And as I begin to
sink
into myself
into the something bigger
I suddenly
don’t feel
very thirsty.
I am free.
Sinking ever deeper,
Diana