A Shiva, for those of you who are not familiar with the word, is a 7 day period of morning for the loss of a close relative. I have written about half the lyrics to a song I am going to call Shiva.
My Shiva, is about the death of creativity, and why each and every one of us must experience a death of sorts in our creative process to find the path we were truly meant to follow. Creative death is a very important part of the creative process.
Anything and everything in life that consumes our passions, is surely meant to at some point reach its full capacity, and needs to evolve. I cannot tell you how many times I have seen others resist this happening, only to find themselves dried up, void of most of their self esteem and unable to make a decision about which way to go.
Re-inventing your creative self is what creativity requires to flourish and produce results beyond what you can imagine right now–today. While it may never get easier to work through it, by doing so, you are assuring yourself of a creative future.
I think one of the reasons this concept is so hard to grasp, is that it only happens at most a handful of times in a creative life, making it seem like either a failure or leaving one to not know what is happening and how to handle it.
Beginnings and Endings are natural. Allow them to occur as they need to…..
The melody for this song I have woken to for the past 2 weeks but no words came for it until just about four days ago. While its absolutely not finished, here is a little bit of it for you to read. Where this song stops is literally where I am in my writing; just about to turn the corner to a new creative path and future for this artist…
SHIVA
It’s just one soul that has departed.
But that one soul was one creative being.
It’s the soul that has gone from the artist
No art left in his weary being
With the wind blowing strong
And his lips dried of song
Northin left for the one
Who once loved all he saw
For the art in his eyes
Sparkling nearly twice as bright
Before his life took his spirit
And it died.
Yes his life was a race
To create the perfect space
For his soul to be seen
While he starved and became mean
Starving Artists will die
just one at a time
on the battlefield of life
that has no time..
To experience the love
And the talent and riches
That the arts bring to those
Who will stop and pause and listen
It’s the artist who must
Learn to create a box and fuss
With the wrapping of how
His soul is seen.
Yes your one creative being,
Yes your one creative life
What you see, what you feel,
What you do, is no longer real
For your vision has gone and
Your passion no longer belongs
Where your heart once was open
Now its closed..
Its just one soul that has departed.
But that one soul was one creative being.
It’s the soul that has gone from the artist
No art left in his weary being
When there’s nothin left inside
You will know
that your Passions died
It’s the life that you lead
That took your creativity
To a place that was filled
With tombstones.
It’s the one that was taken from you
It’s the one not meant for you
It’s that life that must first die
To let the real creativity fly
To a life that was meant for you
.
As he woke he became
Aware that his limbs were no longer drained
And his heart jaded black now was blue…