I am not compelled . . .

I realized something today. I have not posted since Monday and I have not fretted about it one little bit. There has been a small voice inside my head, for a long time, driving me to write and post for the sake of posting. It didn't matter if I had anything to say or not, just write. I suppose this could be considered a good thing, but not in this case. It felt compulsive, unsatisfying, and I had let other creative activities suffer while I fretted about not writing.


Then I started the poetry workshop. Finally and at last I had made a choice to do something to push myself forward in my creative development; something that was formal and structured, not just me, on my own, working independently. Somewhere along the way I've discovered the value of going to the mountain and kneeling at the feet of a master. I had no idea that the formal structure of a class would not only improve my skills but it would relax me and release me from feeling uncertain about my own skills.

It has been sneaking up on me that I need to acknowledge my gifts and not hold any false modesty; not be embarrassed by compliments. Self-confidence is a vital ingredient for creative growth and maturity and I've stymied myself for too long, not believing in myself.

So, here I am, five days later, posting again and feeling good about it, not compelled. And the week has been a good one. I've been working on poetry exercises and I picked up my knitting needles. I had no idea what I was making when I started out but eventually I found myself making a wall hanging. It's not finished yet but stay tuned.