That creative place

The creative is the place where no one else has ever been. You have to leave the city of your comfort and go into the wilderness of your intuition. What you'll discover will be wonderful. What you'll discover is yourself. Alan Alda

We drove home yesterday from the coast. Through misty valleys and cloud crested peaks. We travelled the miles inland, up and over the coastal range. Across the verdant valleys of the interior to the foot of the Rockies. It was warm and green. Vestiges of winter hid in gullies. Promises of spring pushed back winter's grip, loosening its hold upon the land.

And then, we crossed the Rockies. Higher and higher we climbed. Spring fell back. Winter marched in, white and majestic. Snow piled up along the road. Fir trees stood sentinel upon the mountainside laden in winter's finery. Spun sugar snow cast shadows in the looming dark.

We drove east, across winter's spine edging the horizon. Down from the peaks into the plains where the ground lays frozen, tucked beneath a snowy blanket. Here on the plains, winter maintains its icy hold upon the earth. Here, in winter's depths, the world is still and silent.

I love the green. The lush earthy smells of the west coast. The flowers budding in the gardens. The gentle mist of sea air.

I love the snow -- I have decided I must. I live here. The challenge is to see the beauty in the black on grey world of winter on the windward side of the Rockies. That place where a Chinook can blow in and sweep away winter's blanket in one fell swoop leaving black earth exposed and a muddy oasis on every street. That place where between the Chinooks we bundle up and trudge through snowdrifts and icy roads hoping for a warm spell to dispel winter's gloom.

On the coast, I feel my creativity stirring with every breath. Every turn of my mind, every twist of my thinking brings me up against a new thought, new idea, a creative juxtaposition of wonder in the world around me.

Here, on the plains where winter grips the earth in its icy maw, I struggle to connect with my creative muse. In icy captivity I grapple with ennui. With that feeling of wanting to hibernate, to snuggle under the blankets and hold myself still until winter passes and spring renews my spirit with its promise of fresh new starts, new days, new beginnings.

I must struggle with my ego in the depths of winter.

It is a good struggle. In winter's grip, I become conscious of my ego's urging to let creativity go. To give over my power to doing nothing, to being nothing more than a human doing whatever it can to just get by.

I don't like getting by. Don't like the feeling of 'this is all there is so why bother' that invades when I am tucked under the belief winter's here, there's nothing to do but bear it until spring's return in month's far ahead.

It was a wonderful visit with my daughter. A respite from winter. A rejuvenation of spirit. Staying connected to her heart is easy. Staying connected to my heart's desire to be creative is not so easy when I am facing the depths of winter with ego's gloomy forecast of long days of snow and cold ahead.

My heart space is my choosing. I breathe and fill my being with energy and light. I close my eyes and allow the muse, who is ever present, no matter the weather, to rise up and within me. I breathe and give her space to call out to the moon and stars to come dance with me. To come be my creative force of nature.

I cannot change the weather. I can change my perspective on its affect upon my creative state of being. I can shovel out the slush and snow clogging my thinking in its constant quest to hold me in frozen animation. I can lighten my ego space with deep breaths of fresh air. With peaceful thoughts of the wonder of my creativity awakening me to the beauty and the joy of the world all around me.

The world outside my office window is frozen under winter's finery. Regardless of where I am, I am free to dance in the heat of creativity, no matter the weather. I am free to revel in the fires of my creative spirit awakening me to all the wonder of the world dancing in the light of knowing, I am a free spirit capable of greatness in everything I do. Capable of creating wonders. All I have to do is set my spirit free and dance.

The question is: Where does winter hold you? Are you setting yourself free to dance?