Where does the intoxication of spring lead you?
When grape hyacinths and red tulips spring up in my front yard, I get an urge to create something new in my life. Like many people, I’ve never created children or a vegetable garden. Words are the DNA of my creations, and whatever form they take is a new creature. When I wonder about what I have to pass on to the next generation, I think it is simply this: the word beings I create through time.
Like the flowers in the yard that scatter their seeds so that new flowers will grow next year, I scatter thoughts, ideas and stories into the wind, hoping they light on fertile minds and light a fire or provide comfort. Growing up, there was one thing I loved as much as Nature – books. Before I could read, my mother had to lock my books away in the dining room bureau drawer to force me to go outside and play.
I can’t imagine what kind of life I would have had without knowing Faulkner, Dostoyevsky, Keats, Dylan Thomas, Margaret Atwood, Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf or Alice Walker. Books exposed me to cultures and ideas that I would never have encountered in my environment. My mother taught me to love books, and with books in my life, I have never been bored.
So, as warmer spring days descend on us and the fragrance of fresh cut grass fills the air, I always come down with spring fever. I have trouble focusing on any work and stand in the yard feeling the breeze blow through my hair forgetting what I came out there to do. The activity of my mind slows down as I take the time to watch the squirrels spiral up the tree trunk and the crows congregate for a communal discussion.
I’ve come to understand that spring fever is the mental equivalent of cleaning out the closet. It forces me to slow down and clear the mental space so that there is room for a new revelation or this year’s spring poem to come through. I wait patiently for the bud of the idea to appear and when it opens, spilling its beauty onto my paper, I birth a new creation.
I am always saddened when I meet people who believe they are not creative. The Creator lives in each of us. How can we not be creative? It’s in our DNA. When we allow ourselves to think outside “the box” or learn something new, we are exploring our creativity. When my electrician finds a way to rewire my ancient lighting fixtures although the parts he needs can no longer be bought, that’s creative. When I have to substitute rice flour for wheat flour in a recipe, and I still end up with an edible cake, that’s creative. Creativity is about living, not just about art and poems.
What creative urge is pulling at you? Rebirth yourself this spring and feed your creativity and spirit. There is always something new to be created.
© 2011 Georganne Spruce