As I sit here, I wonder whether there's actually such a thing as a good frame of mind to write, or whether any "frame" is appropriate. Of course, that's barring the case in which one is struck by inspiration and words just pour out of their own accord. But here? Now? I'm writing today's entry, and there's no real pressure I'm trying to alleviate with my words. Is my current frame "appropriate"? ... Well, I guess I just proved it to myself, as I'm writing about this idea of the frame of mind.

I think one can create a frame that's conducive to writing, but one needs to take the first step. It is a bit like going to the gym; you don't really want to go, but when you're there it's not so bad and you frequently feel great afterward.

Sometimes it's so easy to just tell ourselves we'll "wait for the right moment." And we wait, and wait, and wait. Days pass, then weeks, and we keep telling ourselves we're just "waiting."

I think that's the danger of "waiting for inspiration," waiting for "the right frame," which is arguably the most common way in which people create¹. I know it is for me. Before starting this experiment, I used to only write when I felt like it. Granted, I wanted to write pretty much every day (especially at the beginning when my motivation was high), so I could fool others and myself into thinking I was consistent, while in reality I wasn't. As soon as other interests started occupying my mind space, I quickly found myself going after them rather than sticking to creating.

There's also the problem of "not knowing what to write about." I deal with this a lot. Even today, before sitting here with you, I had absolutely no idea what I was going to say. But the truth is that I did. Maybe not consciously, but my subconscious definitely knew that I wanted to talk about inspiration and the dangers of waiting for it!

(I actually thought today's post was going to be about the whole issue with Azure blocking my account and how I seem to be able to think of little else! But lo, that was not the case.)

Those are the benefits of writing with a schedule. I started without any conscious inspiration (because I had to) and, soon after, it started to manifest all by itself. It's as if the simple act of "starting" is like dredging something from the depths that was there all along.

Another benefit, which I'm starting to realize now, is that everything that happens in my day-to-day becomes instant sources of ideas and inspiration for things to write about here. I could even say that these past few days I've started paying more attention to the mundane occurrences in my life. Everything is grist for the mill, if you let it. The problem is that you need to let it, and we tend to be very picky with our grist.

...

It's funny how often we get in our own way.

It probably goes back to the fact that in our culture we pretty much ignore the existence of the subconscious. We actually do our absolute best to pretend there isn't a "greater mind" beyond what we immediately see with our conscious-mind eye!

It's actually a strange thought, isn't it? That we (or what we usually think of as "we") isn't really everything there is in "us." Here I'm not just talking about the subconscious as the source of our dreams, or the place where we keep repressed thoughts or whatnot. I'm talking about the greater body-mind intelligence.

For instance, imagine you're hungry, and you get angry because an intern is keeping you from going to lunch by asking you lots of self-evident questions. Who is it that is making you angry? One could argue that you're angry because you can't satisfy that feeling of hunger, a kind of pain. But why? You don't choose to feel that way, right?

It is the same with many other things. From falling in love (oh man, I can't stop thinking about her), being bothered by a weird noise (nails screeching on a blackboard), even fears. The fear of death, inculcated in us by billions of years of evolution. Where do those come from?

There's so much more in our minds than we (normally) see. That really highlights the idea of "mind-body," where both are really two parts of the same thing, and what we think of as "us" (our stream of ideas, our identity) is just a part of a greater whole, and sometimes not even the smartest part (though we like to think it is).

This reminds me of a quote from Carl Jung's Man and His Symbols (copied from here) where he talks about a ... I'll actually let the quote speak for itself:

Their inner centre is realised in exceptionally pure and unspoiled form by the Naskapi Indians, who still exist in the forests of the Labrador peninsula. These simple people are hunters who live in isolated family groups, so far from one another that they have not been able to evolve tribal customs or collective religious beliefs and ceremonies. In his lifelong solitude the Naskapi hunter has to rely on his own inner voices and unconscious revelations; he has no religious teachers who tell him what he should believe, no rituals, festivals or customs to help him along. In his basic view of life, the soul of man is simply an ‘Inner companion’, whom he calls ‘My friend’ or ‘Mista peo’, meaning ‘Great Man’. Mista peo dwells in the heart and is immortal; in the moment of death, or just before, he leaves the individual, and later reincarnates himself in another being.

Those Naskapi who pay attention to their dreams and who try to find their meaning and test their truth can enter into a greater connection with the Great Man. He favours such people and sends them more and better dreams. Thus the major obligation of an individual Naskapi is to follow the instructions given by his dreams, and then to give permanent form to their contents in art. Lies and dishonesty drive the Great Man away from one’s inner realm, whereas generosity and love of one’s neighbours and of animals attract him and give him life. Dreams give the Naskapi complete ability to find his way in life, not only in the inner world but also in the outer world of nature. They help him to foretell the weather and give him invaluable guidance in his hunting, upon which his life depends…. Just as the Naskapi have noticed that a person who is receptive to the Great Man gets better and more helpful dreams, we could add that the inborn Great Man becomes more real within the receptive person than in those who neglect him. Such a person also becomes a more complete human being.

That's fascinating. It speaks to the fact that there's a communication channel between "foreground/conscious" and "background/subconscious" intelligence, and that each has its own specific role to play for the survival of the individual. The channel here is that of dreams, but of course it might very well be anything else in which the two "coexist" in a shared space (e.g., art, dance, meditation, ?psychedelics?).

The Naskapi rely on this connection for their survival, as probably did our ancestors. We evolved to use this connection, to have both the foreground and background be equally active and responsible for someone's life. But in our modern world, the foreground is greatly glorified. I'm certain that the subconscious still finds expression in everything we do (how could it not), but for many, this channel between the two has been severely crippled.

So, circling back to what we were talking about above: I think creating art in this way, in which you show up and let it happen, is a great way to start and mend this connection.

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Footnotes

1. At least the average person. I imagine that "successful artists" are able to somehow manufacture the necessary conditions at will. Maybe. I don't know any "successful artists," so I can't ask them. ↩