Sometimes Creativity Wears Me Out

Welcome back. You belong here.

Sometimes being creative wears me out. It’s the combination of exhasperating frustration and exhilirating perfection. I see things in my mind and senses that are perfect, that I know will touch your heart and change the way you think and act. It’s stuff that will give you goose bumps and will cause you to worship. I also know it’s limitations and boundaries, that it’s not me, that it’s the Spirit of God, that it requires a team of people.

But I also know that the process can be frustrating. Leaders lead people, not Powerbooks and iPods. Creativity is frustrating. It isn’t easy to lead a creative charge. No wonder painters paint alone.

Today is such a day. I’ve been writing, listening, refining and thinking about COLLISION. More on what that is later….

This is why sometimes I just go for a run or vacuum. Creative types sometimes need to just hammer a nail into a piece of wood, make dinner, take a shower or mow the lawn, accomplish something tangible, physical, linear. There’s a beginning and an end to vacuuming a house (i just did that), and it feels good. Creativity seems to never begin and never end, it’s not linear, it’s circular, eternal, you can never quite grasp it, and the minute you do, you’re unto the next moment. Sigh…

But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I am a creative person, off the chart with my emotions, with a guitar and pen in one hand, my heart on my sleeve, but with a vacuum cleaner on the other, with a real life to live, a wife, three beautiful children and bills to pay. That keeps it real for me. And most of all, I have become more human than ever. I am NO Superman with a cape in his phone booth, just waiting to save the world.

I live in the human experience of pain and sorrow, joy and laughter. I counsel couples in need, I mow my own lawn and change my own oil, I date my wife, we disagree, we get through it. I play dolls with our girls and trucks with our boy. I am a sinner, struggle with loneliness, I get upset at people, and many other disfunctions. That also keeps it real. I am in need of a Savior, I am in seminary and take guitar lessons at MI. I strive to be great. I live a real life, I am poet, a songwriter, a mystic and I like to cry.

But I keep it real, pain has done that, but you know what, so has joy. To see my 75 year old neighbor smile at me in church because a month ago he was in bed with his stuff hanging off his bed after having kidney stones removed (not a pretty sight), and I took him communion. I still cry over that story.

His name is Howard and he came by a few days ago at 10pm, just crossed the street, I was in the garage working out, he came over to tell me he doesn’t need prostate surgery. He was smiling from east to west. He just wanted to tell me that.

I live a special life. Thank you Jesus. I hope you can too.

Into the future,


ps – I just read my own post and I began to cry. Crazy…I cry at my own silly thoughts. Oh well.

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