I am reading a lovely book on the creative process. In it, I am told to do a half an hour of creative work “right now.” Write a post? Make cookies? Work on my novel? All of these sound like work, and I’m not afraid of work. But at this moment in time they also sound like toil.
The Bible tells me His yoke is easy. So, I ask, what can I do that is work, with all work’s inherent creativities and satisfactions, but without toil?
Laundry. Dirty clothes in the wash, clean ones ironed. It is a clearing of the mind exercise, which will pave the way for a more deeply creative endeavor. Perhaps.
But alas, all this, all these tools I attempt to use, they leave me pretty much where I was, only with clean laundry. Dull, constrained by I know not what.
I read the words of Jesus, telling me not to worry, which was what got me into this funk in the first place. I go back for more of His words, put on Celtic Woman, diffuse lemon essential oil and make my bed – so lovely. And yet.
“I will conquer this,” is a mantra no longer of any use. “A smart girl like you oughtta be able to figure this out,” is yet another mantra gone by the wayside., at least for the time being. It’s beginning to feel complicated.
Complication, I know, is the nasty covering over truth, which is always simple.
God never meant to be a formula. He meant to be a friend. Sought out, communed with, adored, enjoyed. The author of all things lovely and right, acknowledged, experienced, loved.
As always, I will return to the Word. Not for a get-by message, but to enter into His very presence. Everything else can wait. Even my book, the one that told me to go DO something.
This one thing I can and will do: Be still and know that He is God. Shhh. Listen. Be still.
Ah, and Heaven is helping. It’s beginning to rain. What could be better than rain to reestablish rhythms of grace? Perhaps a walk in the rain?
Constraints? What constraints?