Sitting at my keyboard at 6.30 am
Sun comes through a window, thrown wide to let the sounds of the early morning waft in.
My sound is seagulls and various birds, a deep hum from the ships in the harbour which have to keep their generators running for power.
The staccato call of the gull cuts through the mechanical, but meditative hum of the ships. The various birds give a blanket of chirps and songs and then occasionally the wind hits right and moves the delicate windchimes my gentle, musician neighbour has hung in his garden of rampant plant jungle.
And then this delicate murmuring of a young child, two or three. With no concept that this time is not when sensible people arise, has dragged its parents to the garden so it can play.
Sometimes traffic, a car, a motorbike. A worker arriving, even though Sunday the tourist season is gearing up here and people need to be looked after and served, making sure their holiday fits their dream or as close to it.
I always like to write something before I write.
Throw some red meat into the lion’s cage.
When you create, preparation of the mind, and getting it into a specific state is important. Ideas need a fertile ground to allow their seeds to feed, take root and grow.
If we want to go the digestive route it’s the prebiotic before the probiotic. Yeah, I never realised the difference until I did.
The state of mind is about being open, with the option of moving forward, of building something, creating something.
Later a shift in the state of mind allows for more critical analysis, enabling the cutting away of that which doesn’t work. Sometimes, throwing everything out, you must be prepared to do this, no creation can own you, you are in charge.
You shape your work, make it fit for the purpose it was created for, hunting down your ego and prejudice so it does not consume the piece you are creating.
We then have to make the biggest and most difficult shift in states of mind. That of communicating to the outside world and explaining, justifying, and selling the thing we have created. We secretly think it is art or an extension of our soul. But, these thoughts must be crushed, the thing we created must be given to others.
Given to others to exploit, enslave, ruin, and squeeze.
We do it to put bread on the table.
We are creatives, but we must connect to the acidic world of commercialism.
It has to be done.
Else just go live in a cave and surround yourself with a forest of your own thoughts.