"I've hit a brick wall." I don't have to say the words because I feel it in my soul. It would be wonderful to hit it as a result of weeks or months of constant creativity, but no, this is a result of the opposite. I get to points where writing and rendering hit a snag, face a sharp right turn or in this case, a brick wall and the flow all but stops. I can write about it, think about it, but quite honestly it is the "ugly" emotions that draw the air out of my lungs.
Let me give you a closer glimpse into this struggle: I have goals, dreams and aspirations. They have never gone too far from me. If I never picked up a brush or wrote another word, I believe the bricks would collapse on me! There is a sense of panic, a sense that if I don't do something creatively, I could drop dead. It's funny, with age, I can anticipate the feeling; I can see it coming from a few "miles" away. When I go days, or as it has been, from one weekend to three or more, without painting, there is a sense of loss, an absence. Again it is painful, an ache in my bones. The brick wall is real because it says: "You can't go any further; your dreams will not be realized." Now that's when I know it's time to set aside the demands on my time and carve out a couple hours to exercise this gift!
One way to overcome this sensation is to tap into other resources. I draw strength from the creativity of others as well. A song, graffiti on concrete and brick walls, the designs in a tie, sources that vibrate my own creative flow. Since childhood, I've loved jazz music, even though it wasn't the music of my parents. The message woven into the notes and sounds coming from a piano, guitar, upright bass, horn and drums, is like an intravenous "link" for me. The years where I would not write or paint, this music stirred a range of emotions for me. There were times I would cry at the sound of a song or get so excited about a song's arrangement, I wanted to share what I heard. But most people don't appreciate the work of composers and arrangers, so I would sit quietly, listening to my inspiration.
There's a painting sitting on the easel asking to be completed. There are two pastel renderings on drawing boards, pleading for equal time. And there's a stretched canvas and a rectangle of stretcher bars awaiting canvas and then paint. Sometimes, I have to simply realize I don't want weeks or months to go by without exercising creativity and amazingly, I find time and energy to do so. My "will" is my wrecking ball when facing this brick wall. Thank you Lord!
