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Wednesday, January 10, 2018

An Excerpt from the book THE ART OF NOW: CREATIVITY IN THE PRESENT MOMENT: "How to Start Being Creative Now (in THIS Present Moment)" (GENTLE THUG PRODUCTIONS)



By GENTLE THUG PRODUCTIONS

“(...) Vivimos exclusivamente en el presente pues siempre y eternamente es el día de hoy -y el día de mañana será un hoy, la eternidad es el estado de las cosas en este momento.”

- Clarice Lispector



“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”

- Henry David Thoreau


Y
ou have no tomorrow. You have no yesterday. All you have is now.
Right here--right now—as you read these words, your life is all about this moment in time.

No other moment matters.

For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer. Till death takes you away from this life and sweeps you into the next, your moment of clarity is right here and right now.

What are you going to do with this moment?

What are you going to do now?

As human beings, we’re all creative beings. We yearn to have our inner voice heard through a multitude of artistic expressions.

We want to write novels. 

We want to paint acrylic landscapes. 

We want to be documentary filmmakers. 

We want to be poets. 

We want to be dancers. 

We want to make the best chicken parmesan in the world. 

What’s stopping you in this moment? 

What’s stopping you now?

Our heritage of being artists and creative creatures is long, rich, and inviting. We’re asked to embrace this immense history of human creativity (and beyond) by giving credence to our birthright as creative souls in the universe. It’s our God(dess)-given right.

What’s stopping you in this moment?

 What’s stopping you now?

Fear.

I truly believe that fear is the root emotion of all negative emotions that we experience and encounter in our lives as human beings. 

Fear is the precursor of hatred. 

Fear is the starting point of oppression. 

Fear is the beginning of apathy. 

And fear is what keeps us from doing our own creative work.

We want to write those steamy, passionate romance novels—but what would our parents say if we did? 

We want to paint those acrylic landscapes of the Mojave Desert—but what would our significant others do if we took time away from them? 

We want to direct a documentary film about the injustices of not being able to wear white after Labor Day—but what would the editors of Vogue think? 

And what about that chicken parmesan that Grandma used to make (wouldn’t it hurt her feelings if we tried to top her?)

Fear keeps us from using the present moment now. It makes us long for of how things used to be yesterday, and lures us into thinking that there will always be a tomorrow.

There’s only now.

Fear sucks. Big time. Because it erases what we need to do now and replaces it with what we should have done in the past (which is impossible to recapture because we can’t live in the past) and/or what we should be doing in the future (which is impossible to capture, because we haven’t arrived there yet—the future is a present moment waiting to happen).

Stop doing that to yourself. You shouldn’t should yourself. It’s a very bad habit, and only leads to heartache and excessive binging on substances that aren’t good for you.

All we have is now.

To help you start fighting against the ravages of fear—and to help you (re)start your creative process—I have two writing exercises that I’d like you to try (even if you don’t consider yourself a writer, please do them anyway; the benefits you’ll receive are guaranteed to boost your creativity and artistic well-being—or your money back).

The first exercise was introduced by Brenda Ueland in her book, If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit, which was first published in 1938 (Julia Cameron borrowed this same exercise from Ueland for her own book, The Artist’s Way).

It involves keeping a daily diary.

This exercise is best done first thing in the morning, even before you have that nice, steaming cup of java (or whatever beverage you usually indulge in). 

All you need is a notebook, a pen or pencil, and the willingness to commit to doing this exercise every day. Without fail.

The premise is simple—give yourself complete freedom to write down whatever random thoughts enter your mind, and write them down as fast as you can. Don’t censor yourself and don’t worry about grammar, sentence structure, or spelling (no one is going to read your diary except for you; your former high school English teacher is barred from perusing your entries). 

Write at least three pages a day. Or more. (The more, the better.)

After you’re done writing each day, don’t read what you wrote. Stash your diary away in a safe place until the next morning. Every six months, you can then go back and read what you’ve previously written (but continue writing daily).

I know that this seems like a lot of work—but you’ll eventually find some creative magic in your daily diary. 

 Trust me on this. 

The second exercise that I’d like you to undertake is to write your obituary.

No, wait a second—write two obituaries for yourself. (Yeah, I know—this sounds incredibly macabre, but do it anyway.)

In the first one, write about what you’d be remembered for if you were to die right now—if you were to take your last breath this very second. Realistically look back on your life and ask yourself: What have I accomplished? What did I hope to accomplish? What did I want to become? What did I really want to do? Have I done it already? If not, why not? What disappointments did I have? What obstacles blocked me from doing the creative work that I’ve always wanted to do? (Were you an obstacle to yourself? Did you let others stymie your creative intentions?) 

Put it all into words. Don’t hold back.

In the second obituary, write about living to the ripe old age of 120—without fear stopping you in your life. You’ve accomplished everything that you set out to do. You were afraid of nothing—and that’s reflected in your creative work and the rest of your life. You had everything that you needed at your disposal to be creative (time, money, freedom, etc.). What did you accomplish? What did you become? What did you do? What obstacles did you overcome? 

(Did you tell Grandma to stuff her chicken parmesan recipe because yours is world famous? Did you proudly wear white after Labor Day and make a documentary film about it? Did your steamy, passionate novel make Fifty Shades of Grey read like a Dr. Seuss children’s book? Did you run for a political office? Did you start a rock band? Did you open your own graphic arts studio? Did you do all those things, and more?)

Now compare the two obituaries.

Your first one may only be a shallow representation of who you really are, a shadow image of what you truly want to become in this life. It might be full of missed opportunities, failed realizations, and a straight-out denial of your own creative potential. 

There’s still time to change it.

Begin making your life a proud representation of your second obituary. 

Start in this present moment.

Start right now.


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The Art of Now: Creativity in the Present Moment by [Ljunggren, Tim] 


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