Ahhh... the heat's back on in the apartment. Now I can start thinking forward again, instead of back into the past.

The other day, I interviewed a guy in his gallery. It's a tiny little gallery on N 8th street. And I do mean tiny. I've seen bathrooms that were bigger. And yet, inside this gallery, that was kind of makeshift, kind of like what you'd do if you had a great idea and wanted to do it yourself, was a trove of his work. Beautiful little porcelain figures, little delicate women, based on fashion models, and so near emaciated, but still beautiful, almost unearthly, breakable. And little chihuahuas-- the smallest and most delicate of dogs. THere were translucent sea creatures. Beatiful art work of definite vision, but when I talked to him, he could do nothing by minimize his work. Even he, the man who had created this beautiful stuff, could not take it seriously.

What do I mean, "EVEN he"?

It's the easiest thing in the world to put down your own ability. "We are our own worst enemies," as the saying goes.

I think the biggest block to being creative-- whether with visual art, or writing, or performing of whatever stripe-- is insecurity and fear.

It's so hard to take the things that are inside you, nice and safe and quiet inside your chest, and pull them out into the cold and harsh world. What will people say? What will people think? They'll probably think it's not good enough, or too corny, or really what were you thinking anyway to consider yourself an artist, or a writer, or a musician, or a poet, or a rapper or a dancer or a... dear lord, anything of value. How the hell could you think of yourself as worthy of people's attention? That you have anything to say worth hearing?

Oh, well, look at that. I've just stumbled onto my own story. And I thought I was talking about that guy, or about anyone, certainly not me, who is struggling with their own creativity.

I've been painting since I could hold a brush, and writing since I was twelve. I started my journals twenty years ago, that's two decades!

And yet...

I have 60 journals hiding in a bookcase, hundreds of poems un published (half-hearted attempts to send stuff out notwithstanding) My paintings are scattered through portfolios and drawers and suitcases and bookcases, a few decorating my walls, but really, how many people get to see them? Seven years ago, I wrote a first draft of a novel that is in a briefcase under my desk-- which no one has ever, ever read.

Oh, hiding, Rowena, hiding.

That is no way to open doors. If you spend all your time hiding, you certainly can't accept what comes to you-- because nothing will, it won't be able to find you.

And by the way, hiding isn't just about making stuff and stowing it away, it's also about covering over your every wish and desire with negativity. "Oh, I can't paint, I'm not an artist" "I'll never meet someone because men just don't understand." "No one will ever publish me because my professor once said he didn't think I could do it."

So who are you hiding from then?

YOURSELF.

"Oh no, here I come! Look how wonderful, how beautiful, how talented, how powerful, how amazing I am! Ackk! Runaway! Runaway!"

How sick and twisted we are to put so many blocks in the way of ourselves. Our best selves.

I suppose our small selves, our scared little four year old selves that are at the mercy of the world, I suppose we want to protect them. It's the self we have always lived with, nice and safe, even though it doesn't really make us happy, because the big self keeps trying to get out. We must really be more powerful than we ever thought we were, if our little scared self is able to hold down that big grand self. What a tight little grip!

So how do we break free of ourselves and become the best us? How do we believe in our own powers? Creative or otherwise?

There are really so many ways. So that's good news. It's not impossible.

You can surround yourself with people who believe in you and support you. People who are on the same journey as you, or people who are willing to travel a little ways with you. Listen to them, try on what they say as if it were a coat you might by. Give them support, attention, love. You'd be surprised how inspiring that is. Join a writing collective, or a band, or be a stage hand, take a class in what you want to do, or in empowering yourself, get together with your best friends, find some people who like doing what you want to do, so you can be in discussion about things you all love.

You can read and read and read anything that inspires you-- whether it's self help books or Tropic of Cancer. For that matter, you can experience anyone's art-- their own struggle, their own journey. Watch movies, listen to music, go to museums and concerts and shows and plays, but the thing is to be there not just as a spectator but a participant. Allow your large self to experience art, interact with, be inspired by it, think beyond what is already there into what could be there.

You can try just playing. I love this one. You say, "hey, it doesn't matter. I'm just messing around" and allow whatever comes out to come out. No high stakes because it's just a game. When I first started painting again after deciding I didn't want to be an artist (turned out I didn't have a choice) I only painted on pages that were post card size. It lowered the anxiety I felt about messing up, because I could just throw it away. Doodles are great, singing while doing dishes, dancing when no one else is there, a morning journal that no one ever reads. Finger painting. Go back to being a child and remember what fun it was just to experience the colors that happened when you mixed blue and red. Not only that, but when you don't hold on to what it's "supposed" to be, and just accept it for what it is, then you end up being able to find beauty in unexpected places. Creation doesn't have to be serious, in fact, it's often more powerful when it comes out of joy and wonder.

Oh yeah,and speaking of being a child again, sometimes it's okay to be that frightened four year old. Man, she has a lot to say, as can be evidenced by how strong she is in the middle of an adult life. This one can be scary, but also thrilling. Try listening to the little you. Listen to the fears, the worries, the traumas. Honor them. Make art out of them. If your fears are strong enough to keep you locked up inside of yourself all these years, don't you think they might be strong enough to have impact on a page or in a song or on a stage? We are all different kinds of people, but there are some things that we all share, things that are human, and one of the biggest, is fear. Fear, the great unifier. Even that movie star who makes all the money has fear. Shh. Don't tell anyone.

Another way to go there, to get as big and grand and as wonderful as you are, another way to step into your power and creativity is to just...
LEAP
eyes closed, breath held, what if you believed that you would fly.

What if you did fly?

Paint that huge canvas. Read at that open mic. Buy a guitar and start playing. Sing at karaoke. Audition for that play. Start that blog and send the addres to all your friends and family.

Now, that's an adventure. What wonder might be yours?

fly, fly, my little pigeons.