I sometimes wonder if the analogy of creativity being a well is accurate. For the last month and a half I haven’t written a single substantial piece of work. I feel stuck like gum under desks with a janitorial staff not paid well enough to have time to clean it.
I’m trapped in a bubble watching others flourish as I float away, seeing more as I go but knowing I’ll have no safety when the bubble bursts and I’ll crash down like the Willamette Wi Fi.
I wonder however how the well can be replenished if it can. If not I suppose I have two options: accept my artistic life and wilt away like Californian flowers, or I could try to stay relevant way past my prime like a presidential candidate.
But if the well can be rejuvenated there needs to be a mechanism as to how. I think every person, every life would have to have a different connection. Some through happiness, sadness, anger, emotions, traumatic events or meaningful decisions. Others perhaps through food, drugs, alcohol or even academic. I’m not sure if I’m scraping the bottom or the rate of refill is slow, but I haven’t found my spark. The passion, the drive or other buzzwords employed in office jobs hasn’t sunk it’s teeth in my gray matter like a zombie that hasn’t had food in days.
That scares me. There are many things to talk about. But my mental pen is drier than high school cafeteria burgers. So while I’m not tryna say I need to speak on every issue, there are those that my input is needed and I choke like hanging from a thread.
I question why I need this well. Does it need to be full or does it even need to exist in this theoretical world?
I think it’s dangerous to so leisurely apply analogies, comparisons or connections. In some instances they don’t fit well and in others they don’t come off.
With my writing by labeling it an empty well I make an assumption that something needs to change or some mechanism refills the well. Instead I should stand firm that my process is my own and I can write if I want or need and when I can’t to try again.
When we give other things like people label identities we remove the ability for their own self label. And when we tell others of those labels we applied they may stick so hard change becomes impossible like a cash register stolen.
The person may not want to change and fully embrace the title given or imposed, but for the people who want to change and grow? They become stuck, just like I was at the beginning of this poem.
it’s hard, and it can be giving more credit than someone deserves but I think that’s worth it if we give someone credit to change that may not have before.