Nothing, Death,
Madness – Magic
The empty page is
the void that opens for us. It creates a space where we belong. The emptiness
of the page is unoriginated, uncreated, unformed. So are we, when we open
to the silence that carries our thoughts.
The process of confronting
the empty page and experiencing fantasies to develop into creative works
ransoms meaning from emptiness. We redeem our sanity and the only possessions
we truly own - time and mindfulness - in exchange for meaning. From the
irreal, from the potential, from the imagined, we carry meaning into life.
We steal it from nothing.
Creativity embodies
the freedom of the human spirit, which is nothing less than the liberty
of our uncreated selves.
Creative writing is
freedom’s language. “Language is the house of Being,”
Martin Heidegger tells us. Yet, what we are cannot be said. We come forth
from the Great Silence. Our bodies are whirlwinds of light, our minds a
human array, dumbstruck, watching our universe accelerate into darkness
too proud for stars.
Whatever we create
with the strength of our own emptiness (however grandly or poorly) magnifies
our humanity.
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