Dreamixing reality : To rewire a creative spark
Ever experienced weightlessness, zipping between the clouds? Suddenly, a beeping alarm clock. The wings of your dream scatter. Ugh.
Creativity shares this vulnerability.
My lightbulb moments were short-circuited by my inner critic.
Thankfully, a Yoda coffee mug challenged this.
“Do. Or do not. There is no try.”
A ceramic intervention flicked a switch.
The months leading up to this were trying times. My thoughts were punctuated by mouse clicks. An office chair shaped my reality, ergonomically. Moments of inspiration, quietly crumbled into email chains.
Somewhere my creative spark had a connectivity issue.
What would it take to repair it?
The answer started with silence.
Observing my breathing cultivated a spaciousness within. Meditation was no quick fix. Rather an access key — to unchartered depths.
Floods of thoughts streamed through. From random childhood memories to guesstimating my anchor points in the future. Breathing calmed the chaos.
Suspended in silence I was drawn to the most creative being on Earth.
Nature is wise beyond words. The touch of a breeze, rhythm of the ocean or bird song, rooted me in the present. Being receptive to the environment made me less reactive to my thoughts.
This awareness would sustain my flow when I landed in Dubai.
Arriving in this futuristic city, in an ancient desert, was surreal. It felt like I’d time-travelled to a distant planet. My inner compass was spinning.
I connected with my brother. Things aligned. Our catch-up en route to his work was magic in motion.
We parted ways between the red and green glow of a traffic light. I landed at the feet of the tallest skyscrapers I’d ever seen. A megalopolis swirled around me.
First stop — batteries for the camera and microphone. I loaded them like bullets into a gun. I’d find my bearings by getting lost.
Perched on a storefront wall, I aimed at the sky.
Seconds later, a tram bell rang through me. It echoed between the buildings like a pinball.
My free-range journey had begun.
Less thinking on my feet - more sensing with each step.
Navigating the unknown while capturing the experience was a balancing act. Equal parts focus and surrender. Each breath carried a motivation.
Embrace uncertainty. Follow your intuition. Don’t become like bottled water. Flow!
Between the desert and ocean, pashmina-like flowerbeds and marble passages I had an ‘into-body experience’. Getting lost magnetised the weight of my existence.
Trying to express this would take some doing.
I was selfie-less. It’d been three years since dissolving my social media ‘self’. All was not lost however. A flashcard was my safety net.
Revisiting the sights and sounds back home, was digital déjà vu.
I practised deep-etching photos. Pixel surgery inspired the non-artist in me.
Tracing the contours of buildings and textures, reframed my perspective. Bold shifts with colour levels overshadowed my overthinking.
Layer after layer I bypassed my inner-critics’ clickbait.
A tectonic shift creaked within.
I hadn’t lost my creative spark. I had lost awareness of being.
Life itself — was creativity expressed. Each breath, a blank canvas.
A deep inhale soothed me like a sunrise.
I sensed my heart and lungs collaborating.
All along they were animating life, while I was trying to find inspiration ‘out there’.
I exhaled gratitude. At the piano.
There were no wrong notes. What mattered most was finding the keys that unlocked an expression. Reaching out for a resonance that danced with silence. Plugging into a dimension beyond myself.
Music production brought the structure. Each sonic texture developed in its own channel. Much like an urban skyline, each sound grew towards a soundscape.
Tram bells, industrial machinery, boat engines and metro carriages transported me back in time. Water fountains and bird calls were oases in the traffic. My ears experienced jet-lag from hours of atmospheric recordings.
I acclimatised by sitting in silence. With the lights off. From this space my intuition started mapping the musical voyage.
Piano keys, bass notes and futuristic synth textures became sonic translators. They weaved through, suspending me between realms. Their whispers surfaced in goosebumps. And headaches.
The current of creativity humbled me. It extracted expressions that would’ve dissolved without a trace. Like my dreams of weightlessness.
It took twelve months for the fragments of my journey to find a shared gravity. Meeting in a song, an artwork, these words. A dreamixed version of reality.
What was the point?
Learning to focus on what I could do. Starting with breathing.
Facing the unknown forced me to rearranged my internal environment. Painfully at times.
Understanding. Randomness has a pattern. Patience and persistence shape it.
Nature is proof. How else would roots grow through rock? Or rivers find their way to the ocean?
We get to experience the atmosphere filter through us. Awareness of this privilege gave my creativity breathing room again.