Rivaling an anaconda or a black widow spider,
the blocked creative poses similar threats to themselves and humanity at large.
Blocked: Means not flowing, not using their gifts and talents to their greatest capacity. Stifled, stymied, slowed.
Among the various bouts of loafing and self-denial/apathy that happens when a creative is blocked, there are other particularly deadly instances of self-hate, abusive language at the dog, or violent fits of rage at inanimate objects.
A blocked creative in it’s wild habitat can also be found:
- Endlessly scrolling Facebook.
- Indulging in gossip blogs.
- Finding random household chores to do that don’t really need to be done.
- Picking fights with innocent family members.
- Refraining from showering for days.
- Watching hours upon hours of Netflix and/or youtube, perhaps at the same time.
- Endlessly complaining about the fact that their lives aren’t as great as Elizabeth Gilbert’s.
- Doing everything BUT creating. Because, well you know, they just don’t have the time.
In all seriousness, blocked creatives are dangerous. If you yourself are a blocked creative, godspeed. I can think of nothing more insanity-inducing that an artist that refuses to create. It’s like having a lung that refuses to take in oxygen, or a mouth that won’t take food.
I’ve had quite a few bouts of creative block in my life, and each time I danced around the simple solution of “just create something, anything.” Instead, I became wretched and a real pain in the ass to be around. I didn’t want to do anything. Life lost all its sparkle and shine. I let myself be consumed with the problems of this world.
Art cleanses the soul of the dirt from everyday life – Pablo Picasso
My soul felt filthy. Layer upon layer of grime and mildew covered my delicate artist child soul within. She felt trapped inside, so desperate for a breath of fresh air while my waking self was brought to a stand-still paralysis, unable to move.
The amount of energy it seemed to take to raise my arm for a paintbrush stroke felt outrageous and overwhelming. I turned away and hid within my stories I told myself. “This is no use. You’re all out of good ideas. Forget it. No one cares about what you create. Who do you think you are?”
And cue the Netflix and blanket forts.
Do you see how easy it is to get stuck in this shit cycle? It starts with denying your urge to create just one time. Denying the creative act once, and then it starts becoming habitual. Eventually, you’ve ceased creating at all, and then you are just a consumer. And THEN you are a grumpy bitter stymied consumer that criticizes and puts down other creatives. And then other get discouraged, and perhaps abandon their creativity. And then a whole army of pessimistic blocked creatives reign over earth and poison their offspring and Earth becomes a cold cruel dark place.
Yeah, I know… It’s a pretty extreme scenario, but I’m sure you can see an ounce of truth in it.
If you committed to your creativity, you could have the opposite effect. One creative living in integrity with their heart and vision could spark another, and another, and another. Saying yes to creating, and no to self-avoidance. Saying no to apathy, and yes to sorting shit out on the page – come what may. This is real magic here.
The choice is yours. Force of life and renewal, or weapon of mass destruction? Choose wisely!