I have promised that The Sheathed Sword will have a broad content, well beyond the political and international events of the day. Culture and creativity are too often ignored in the heat of political and policy debate or are simply purloined as ammunition for political argument.
One of the challenges of my life has been to create balance between the rational/political part of my brain and my life and the intuitive/creative part. As a stage actor in my youth, I often found myself switching from one part to the other -- school work followed by rehearsals. I was attached to both; I actually did better at the first the busier I became with the second. My emotional investment was clear; it was in both the rational and the creative worlds
The need to restore balance became clear to me more than 20 years ago, when that thespian passion reemerged and I decided to enroll in Studio Theater Conservatory in Washington, DC as a student, diving back into theater in a more professional way. At almost the same time, I began writing poetry, now an equally passionate undertaking. When I retired, these were both on my “to do in retirement” list. I have been doing both and adding to them with some voice-over, video, and storytelling work.
Creative work and “knowing” is completely different from rational, researched, “knowing.” The more time I spend in creative intuition, the more aware I am of the difference. Time loses its meaning when a creative mind is in what Hungarian-born psychologist Mihaily Csikszentmihalyi called “flow.” While his name is hard to read and difficult to pronounce, his concept of “flow” is an amazing insight into the creative brain; it is one of the first things I read on the subject. Read the book, or check out the TED Talk.
Today, the musings and research of Maria Popova at The Marginalian become a regular source of inspiration for my own creative work. The Writer’s Almanac gives me a daily dose of poetry and links to the creative past, present and future. The daily poem posted by the Academy of American Poets does the same. I would love other suggestions of creative portals like these – the universe expands endlessly.
Creativity is elusive, personal, and, many times, challenging. When I sit to write, learn character and lines, or work on a story I am excited, challenged, and aware of my insecurity. A work of art, any art, is, by definition, something that has never been done before. That is an awesome responsibility and opportunity.
Maria Popova reported recently an exchange between Agnes De Mille and Martha Graham. Dance is the medium, but Graham’ wisdom about “divine dissatisfaction” applies across the board:
“Martha said to me, very quietly: ‘There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. As for you, Agnes, you have so far used about one-third of your talent.’
‘But,’ I said, ‘when I see my work I take for granted what other people value in it. I see only its ineptitude, inorganic flaws, and crudities. I am not pleased or satisfied.’
‘No artist is pleased.’
‘But then there is no satisfaction?’
‘No satisfaction whatever at any time,’ she cried out passionately. ‘There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.’”
That is what it feels like, to create. A performance is never perfect; a poem is never final (only the reader makes it final). As the French poet Paul Valery wrote in 1933, “A work of art is never finished, only abandoned.” Inspiration and dissatisfaction move the creator on to the next creation.
As I will, from time to time, I pass on, then, these recent creations. While they were stimulated by photos of the war in Ukraine, they are my effort to deal with that brutal crisis in the creative, intuitive, emotional mode, as opposed to the logical one I undertook in the last episode of this column. I offer these as creative pieces in the broad voice of The Sheathed Sword.
Ira’s Cat
Sheltered in her arms
stroking fear away,
fed, at last
the scraps left
as they ran for the root cellar,
shrapnel zinging through the kitchen,
shredding tree bark as it flew.
The silence
Of her dead husband,
Levis, jacket-clad
At her feet
On the stony path
To safety.
Is it all a dream?
The boy sits, legs crossed
before his blue and yellow
speckled tent perched
on a subway platform
wondering if the cat
has found its way home
mewling for the milk he left
on the shattered tile floor;
if the ravens found
the macadamia nuts
he scattered on the grey cement walk
as the family ran from whistling missiles;
if the man they saw on the sidewalk,
pink life trickling from his mouth,
lifted his children’s bodies
And took them home.
You have touched on so many emotional worries and wounds with your essay and poetry. Much to think about. Laurie
This post speaks to me especially now living with dangers of killing heat and Israeli coalition and gone off the rails. More like this post, please. PS I have been following Hebrew poetry past years yet do follow many years short story English-language writers on other writers' stories at New Yorker Short Stories podcast.