Part of embracing deep creativity is acknowledging that we, ourselves, are a creation. And quite a miraculous one. We did not create ourselves. Therefore, we exist as a “product” of creativity. And we continue to be created every day. We are a conglomeration of trillions of cells, which work to keep us alive and provide us with energy. We are living and breathing and coexisting with other creations. Bacteria live on and within us. Plants provide us with oxygen, as we provide them with carbon dioxide. Fruits and vegetables and water and animals sustain us. There’s something in this acknowledgment that begs (or even requires) us to come into an intimate relationship with the natural world—to place ourselves, humbly, not above but among the other miraculous creations, from whom we cannot separate ourselves. It was the naturalist John Muir who once wrote in his book My First Summer in the Sierra, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.”
This is a wonderful idea. That we are hitched to everything else in the universe. Damage is done when we forget this. When we create separation and objectify the natural world as resources to use at our disposal. As you have read in each of our reflections, our work in deep creativity is not only about using the natural world to serve our creativity but using our creativity to serve the natural world. Deep creativity is reciprocal, and we place true relationship front and center. This means when we go out into nature, we don’t only see the tree, we allow the tree to see us. We don’t only touch the sand, we allow the sand to touch us. In this process, objects become beings. We exist within the web, rather than upon it.
As we exist within the web, we start to see things differently. Deep creativity is attentive, but this attentiveness moves beyond simply noticing things to feeling with our bodies and our senses. This can take time and patience. It is a new way of “seeing” the world and a new way of “seeing” ourselves. We begin to see not only with our eyes but with all five senses and with our whole body. For this to happen, we have to wait for our logical brains to switch off and relinquish a bit of control. We have to be careful not to give in to the temptation to interpret or describe or label. And we must have a willingness to feel, and to feel deeply. The more we feel, the more we come alive. The more we feel, the more we awaken. To be alive and awake—how powerful—this is what we long for as artists.
It is important to remember that when we are feeling particularly comfortable or familiar with something, we are usually not as attentive. Haven’t you noticed that when you are used to a particular scent, you hardly notice it at some point? Or when you drive the same route to work, it eventually becomes automatic? As we breathe nature out into our creative lives, we may need to shake things up a bit. We may need to avoid our comfort zones or familiar places. We may need to go off into unexplored territory. If we are typically drawn to the mountains, we may need to plan a pilgrimage to the sea. If we are used to using words, we may need to pick up a camera, as Jennifer describes in her essay. We may need to go on a solitary sojourn, as Dennis describes in his essay.
The most wonderful part about Mother Nature is her extreme vastness, her variation, her diversity. I had to look this up but there are (estimated) 8.7 million species on our planet. That is insanity. Beautiful insanity. But insanity. Take a moment to think about that: 8.7 million different creatures—around 6.5 million on land and 2.2 million in the ocean. With those numbers, we don’t really have a shortage of inspiration.
We humans are typically creatures of habit. We like to stay or return to where we feel comfortable. Don’t get me wrong, there can be power in this too. A mentor of mine, who is a wilderness guide, encourages her students to take the same, exact walk in nature each morning and attempt to notice something different every single time. She claims this is the way we truly get to know our landscape, our surroundings, our “neighbors.” We see the mushrooms and how they behave in spring versus how they behave in winter. We watch the different plants appear and then disappear and perhaps appear again. Our creativity responds to this developing intimacy. But, should we feel called, there is much to be said about changing scenery every once in a while as well—flooding our body and senses with new sights, smells, and experiences. Perhaps it is time to meet some new creatures and see what they have to say about your creative work. A new set of eyes upon you may bring you alive in surprising, magnificent, terrifying, and unexpected ways.
Where is the soft animal of your body moving you? Introduce yourself to Brother Turtle, to Sister Spider, to one of the 8.7 million creatures, knowing that you too are a creature. What external landscapes are calling to your internal landscape? Immerse yourself in Brother Forest, in Sister Sea, knowing that you too are landscape. What natural wonders feed your soul and fuel your creativity? Move toward Brother Redwood, toward Sister Flower, knowing that you too are a natural wonder.
As creature, as landscape, as natural wonder, what might you create?