Creative venting

I have learned the value of articulating creative challenges. Nothing is too petty to bear mention. And the simple act of venting — with humor, if possible — makes me the author of my life.” — Julia Cameron, The Creative Life

In another inspiring book, creativity expert Julia Cameron ponders all facets of the artful life, from enduring fallow time to savoring epiphanies and breakthroughs. Drawing from the rich well of her own experiences, Cameron reminds us in The Creative Life that we must take time out to reassess where our paths are leading us.

If we’re blocked, it helps to “vent” with a trusted creative friend, as Cameron suggests. While venting, we might discover that all we need is a short break or more sleep. Or that it might be time to head off in a new direction.

I’m lucky to have an artist-architect husband and several writer-friends with whom I can share my creative dreams and disappointments. When I indulge in a little creative venting, I often discover why I’m blocked — or how to push beyond my so-called limits. Sometimes, too, my professional concerns or worries are validated. For instance, my writer-friends are the first to point out when an editor is treating me unfairly — or when I’ve missed the mark.

Cameron is also spot on when she reminds us that crafting an art project or writing a book requires many intricate steps. “Grumbling about each of them may well free up the energy to act,” she writes. “One thing it surely does is dismantle the mythology that tells us art is made by loners and made with heroic ease.”  — Cindy La Ferle

“Now I Become Myself”

I have been dissolved and shaken / Worn other people’s faces” — May Sarton

My early introduction to May Sarton‘s work was through her diary, Journal of a Solitude. I was new to personal writing at the time, and I admired how Sarton gracefully shared her private and public worlds — her beloved garden; domestic life in New Hampshire; her conflicting needs for solitude and companionship. Reading more of her work over the years, I knew I’d found a kindred spirit.

“Now I Become Myself” first struck me as a song of elder wisdom, a declaration of authentic power. Feeling her “own weight and density,” the poet has outgrown the petty insecurities of youth — including its sense of urgency. Yet the poem speaks to readers of all ages. I gave it to a friend on her 70th birthday and was thrilled to learn it is now one of her favorites. My friend was especially moved by the line, “Now there is time and Time is young.”  Which lines speak to you? –CL

Now I Become Myself
By May Sarton

Now I become myself. It’s taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people’s faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
“Hurry, you will be dead before –”
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page, is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gathered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poem is, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted by love.
Now there is time and Time is young.
O, in this single hour I live
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!

— Reprinted from Selected Poems of May Sarton edited by Serena Sue Hilsinger and Lois Brynes; W.W. Norton & Company; 1978–

–Top photo: Detail from “Book of Shadows,” an altered book, by Cindy La Ferle —

This post is part of a weekly poetry appreciation series.  To read more, please click on Poems to inspire in the CATEGORIES column at right. As always, I welcome your recommendations, too.