Haystacks

Van Gogh did not paint haystacks because the world needed more pictures of haystacks.  He painted haystacks because inside of him was a truth so great that he needed to, as faithfully as possible, express and recreate that powerful truth he felt inside himself, on the outside.  In the world.  That truth needed to be expressed on the outside.

It is so easy to judge the expression through the lens of what other people “think.”  In truth, I have no idea what people think.  That is actually code for, “what I fear.”

It is tempting to express, or create, or write, or say, or do, for the outside validation.  For the accolades.  To garner approval.  For any external reason.  But that stifles the deepest truth inside that longs to be expressed.

My real gift is simply to convey that truth inside that is so great that it simply must be expressed on the outside.

Our culture values certainty.  But creating is anything but certain.  It is the opposite of certain - it is wildly uncertain.  It will take on its own life, and be its own thing.  It is not my place to judge the thing, the outcome, only to judge and hold steady to the truth that created it.  The faithful, steady, fidelity of truth. The integrity on the inside.

Creating this way feels vulnerable and unfamiliar.

Just because something is unfamiliar does not make it wrong or unsafe.  It simply means it is unfamiliar.  It takes time to feel familiar.

Don’t give up too soon.  Give it time to breathe.  To adjust to the spaciousness that accompanies releasing.

Create, express, write, say, and do, for me.  Because doing anything less is unworthy of my power.