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For a long while – a decade or three – I thought and wrote and talked a great deal about ‘creativity.’  I taught workshops, spoke at seminars and wrote e-books on the topic.

It was, for me, the Great Mystery, the wonder of wonders that would flow in and infuse my work in the studio.  I knew it well, yet I could never pin it down.

I understood, over time, what seemed to foster it, and what seemed to ensure its absence.  I discovered it would only turn up when me-as-artist, me with the designs-plans-goals-skills-aversions was absent.

Eventually the gap between my two passionate preoccupations – ‘creativity’ and ‘the sacred’ – closed over.

Creativity is exactly that immeasurable, unknowable Creation pouring into the space vacated by the artist-person, manifesting ITs own magic, shocking the daylights out of me with its audacity.

And the sacred?  Ditto.  In other words, nothing I could put into words.  Nothing I ever expected.  Nothing that could ever be known.

And yet – expression happens!  Such a marvel!

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