Gathering the Ghosts

Just the other day I was innocently walking to the train station to meet Matthew for lunch, when I was hit with a book. The story, the imagery, the title, all of it just landed in my head as if it was some big thingy that had fallen from the sky and bang! Now it was in my head. It nearly stopped me in my tracks and I had to laugh out loud. I told Matthew when we met up at the train, “I just got hit with a book!”

I don’t know exactly where it came from, but as always, once it came it felt like it had always been there. It was so obvious that it was clearly mine.

As with nearly everything, I just noticed its presence. Hello, I said to this new book in my head. And I let go. I have so many creative bits land in my head that it has taught me the practice of letting go. If they push to creation on their own, then so be it. But I know that I can’t force it myself or I will most certainly make myself mad!

Much like its dramatic arrival, this book just kept pushing. I was flooded with images and the tale continued to deepen down deeper into sounds and thoughts. I just stayed present. Watching it grow and push up and up and out.

The tale is called “Gathering the Ghosts.” Basically it’s about experiences and emotions that get stuck in us because they lack full expression or resolution. What I’ve witnessed is that we then act these stuck places out until we learn through them or release them. The title is a phrase I use primarily in relation to children gathering experiences that will often affect and even form their personalities well into adulthood. In my life, these experiences and lessons have felt like hauntings, which probably lead me to call them ghosts. I am well acquainted with my own ghosts. In my imagination, this is why I can see ghosts and understand ghosts in others, especially children. Since that is when I gathered so many of my own.

I want to say that I calmly spent my evenings drawing children. But it is closer to the truth to say that I watched drawings of children start pouring out of my hands. I could not have stopped them if I had wanted to, which of course I didn’t. They weren’t what I expected and I didn’t even pretend that they were going to be the images I would use in my book. They were part of this massive flow. And they seriously needed to get out. 8 children and 1 ghost. I laughed and played with them and never had one moment of judgment. I just let them become.

This felt like my own haunt. It felt as though something was moving through me. Perhaps it was something that was stuck in me finally moving. I don’t know. I don’t have to know. I trust. The more I let go and let whatever move through me without worrying about details and the pretense of knowing what I’m doing, the stronger the flow becomes and the more in sync I become with the creative force. My bigger, creative mind can put things together a million times better than my little ego mind. I could sense that if I followed the little questions my mind came up against I would diminish the story and the potency of the imagery. I just kept drawing and drawing and having more and more visions of the book. There were no concrete words yet. I just kept noticing.

I couldn’t stop looking at my drawings. So I gathered them up, mounted them on vintage paper and pinned them on a ribbon like flags. I strung them across the wall like prayer flags where I could see them all the time. After all, life is art and art is life.

The next morning I woke up with a rhyming tale forming in my mind. I got up and without effort, wrote the entire tale. Everything that had been pushing up and up now fell down, down onto the page. It was just a matter of continuing to let go. The haunt was coming to a close. The ghosts released.

I showed Zai the drawings on the wall. She picked one, then another that reminded her of her and then I read her the rhyme. For a moment I reminded myself that I now had to super -double-plus let go as I read it to her. She might not like it. That couldn’t matter. I was sharing something that was mine. As I read, Zai’s eyes widened, her expressions shifted. I love reading out loud and I especially love reading to Zai. She sat enthralled and my heart opened as I shared what was mine with her. Afterwards, she said “good one Ma My. I can’t wait to see the art that goes with that story.” I could tell it was Zai’s story too.

One last drawing flew out. The teacup ghost… and then it could rest for a time. After I showed Zai!

But, I imagine that the ghosts will visit again in the Spring when the book begins to take its more final shape and the creativity flows up and out again!

Filed under The Creative Process | Tags: book process, children, creative process, creativity | Comment (0)