Permission to Create

Yesterday I managed to squeeze in an afternoon run in the woods with the dogs while I paid my cousin to watch my kids for a few hours. On my route there is a house that is a feat of engineering, perched on the top of a hill they lopped off so that it can overlook the park canyon (I watched it being built over a year so I saw what it took to put it there). I thought how nice it must be to have all that space, all those windows and decks so artfully arranged at the edge of the wilderness. It also appears to have a studio of sorts, a glorious atrium I found myself coveting.

Then I realized that I do have a studio/office of my own. For years, it was an extra bedroom, until I read a passage in Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way (recommended by Wayne) about setting aside a space for your art, be it a window sill, table, corner or entire room. I literally had not given myself permission to have that space--even though no one else was using it, and we didn't have children yet. I had my cockatiels in there at the time, making a huge mess, but other than that, I owned it. We built a huge cage for the birds outside and bit by bit this room became a studio, a place where I allow myself to be a musician and writer. But it took being laid off from my job last year for me to allow myself to support my family through my creativity. For exactly a decade, I said I would never leave my great corporate job--with it we bought our house, had healthcare and access to new technology, traveled internationally and saved for retirement. I worried it would be impossible to survive without that bimonthly financial guarantee.

Now that I am living my dream as a working musician, I hear lots of negativity from other musicians, and I see first-hand the difficulties we face. This is a tough field, with lots of peculiar pitfalls. I dealt with rampant cynicism in the corporate world, too. I don't have time for it anymore, in any field. It's ironic--in corporate America, the money is plentiful, yet you still see every bizarre wrinkle of human behavior. Society tells us that sitting at a desk as an "information worker" is a respectable choice. Using our brains, bodies and souls to create and share intricate tapestries of sound is frivolous.

Seven years ago, I gave myself permission to create, here in this room. I am grateful to those who encouraged me on the way.