Creativity is a small beginning.

Creativity is a small beginning. It cannot be underestimated how infinitesimally small. It begins in darkness and ether-dust, born from the closest real thing to nothing that matters. It is energy to its smallest power.

It is perfectly normal magic. Every potential starts small.

Birth from near nothingness always happens. The universe is a dominant drive in favor of creativity. We are obliviously crowded by almost-nothings and not-quite-somethings making small maneuvers to become. The air is littered with inspired desire and imaginative cravings that are not-so-invisible, just a thought-trick to perceive.

These creative powers, half-imaginings, are miniscule beings, inhuman but alive with desire. A creative act is wise. It knows it’s choices. It can wait for us to manifest or it can empower itself and act. If you get close enough, it will dare to act. It will release a rebellious war cry: “I am important! I am! And I am just beginning.” The outburst is a powerful shove away from nothing and towards expression. The barely noticeable sigh resounds and shifts the air.

With a wince, its life-force lodges into you as you stroll just close enough and marries itself there, a psychic organ but incomplete.

You are the medium of creative existence.

It is a requisite of your being. Your soul is invaded by the will of a creative act just as our universe is. We are infinite mirrors of creative potentials. More importantly, you are the emollient soil for the seeds of creativity and the gardener of intimate magic. Intimate because it is the act between self and birthright. Magic because it has the potential to transform, not just you, but the world.

Once lodged, your creativity is patient-to-a-point but self-aware and self-preserving. It is a riotous and shifty multi-dimensional beast. It lies dormant, it rages, it whispers, or tugs on heart pain. Unrealized, it will force you into darkness until you seek its release. Malnourished and your daily life-force is slowly suckled to the sluggish, grey, stone-beat of the numb mundane. Creativity demands respect to the point of formality yet unveils rich wildness in undulations of sublime emotions and kinesthetic eloquence. Creativity emerges in hope’s soft moments but skitters from fear’s bleak darkness. It reins free, but unstructured, in childhood silliness and fun. In adulthood, it plays hide-and-seek in the open stillness of a window’s sun-slant. It frolics and dares you to let go, be brave and believe.

Creativity is lodged in you. It unsettles you. It does not give up easily. It holds its breath with expectation and wanting while you speculatively, cautiously, slowly, fearfully-yet-hold-your-breath-and-hopefully learn to believe, just a little, and have faith.

You are invaded by creativity. You are not waiting for creativity’s call. It is ceaselessly calling and present.

Creativity is waiting for you to awaken.

(C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.

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