the transcendence of creation.

Making space for creation, and for the people around me to view my creative life.

I’m usually tight-lipped about the creative ventures I begin. Most people didn’t know about my poetry collection, words from a wanderer, until my intimate thoughts were printed and my Instagram stories proudly displayed an illustration of me, eyes closed with my natural afro surrounded in flowers. Me in my natural state. Imagining, seeking, wandering. I don’t think anyone knew how much of a wanderer I was until this book was published.

I received many questions when I published, but one of the most common was why didn’t you tell anyone you were writing a book, and I usually answered with a shrug, because I never gave myself space to think about the true reason.

My most reasonable answer is that creation is the most vulnerable part of my life. It’s how I define myself. Creativity has granted me purpose and meaning in the form of metaphors and beautiful words strung together with a message. I live for the moments of transcendence, of losing myself in a poetic process or a plot line, and something about those moments make me feel more alive and present in the life I have been blessed to live.

The idea of allowing other people into that space feels almost sacrilegious, like someone has encroached into my deepest thoughts and memories and taken up space to criticize me. The feeling of transcendence transforms into an indictment of questions, unwanted dialogue, and a lack of understanding. You never have to ask the creative flow to explain itself when you’re alone. You never have to explain your own thoughts when your brain conjures concepts. It’s a zone that only you reside in, and you can allow others in whenever you please (for me, it’s often never at all).

Silence has worked for years. Silence has birthed screenplays, poems, and future novels that I’m excited to unearth in the future, but now, I believe silence is running its course. As most people experience, getting older causes you to re-evaluate the way you look at the world, and in turn, how you look at yourself. While the feeling of transcendence is wonderful alone, I find that I also crave for people to see me as I see myself in that feeling. I want them to see me more alive and more present.

I want them to see what I love, especially since I haven’t transitioned into being a creative full time yet in my life. I am constantly diverting time, energy, effort, and resources to staying alive rather than being alive. As a “part-time” creative, I mourn the time that I could be spending in the creative flow and I try to position myself to embrace the flow as often as I can.

Silence fails to show the people in my life the unending hope I have in my dreams. The death-grip I have on my talent is a form of protection from the people who possibly don’t understand my mind, but what if they never see the fullness of me in all my dreams? Maybe the majority won’t understand my creativity, my passions, or how the heck I’ll make a career out of it, but I’m willing to bet a few will. A few will notice the spark glimmering in my eyes. A few will share excitement with me, and believe that I have the ability to make my ideas come to life.

Maybe they’d feel more alive with me.