Creativity in Life Is Directed by the Heart. Creativity Of Life Is Directed By The Heart, is a book of Poetry, but inspirational and meaningful to one's.
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The tools you can put in your hands are without end. The things you can imagine are without end.
The places you can go in your mind are without end. The beauty you can touch is without end. The well is deep and it is full. You will be free. And that uninvited guest will have no choice but to slink out the door. When this desire and capacity come alive, new wells spring up in parched ground; difficulty becomes invitation and rather than striving against the grain of our nature, we fall into rhythm with its deepest urgency and passion.
The time is now ripe for beauty to surprise and liberate us. So perhaps all this chaos in the world is an invitation. Perhaps that black thing in the living room is an invitation. Perhaps the parched landscape is an invitation. An invitation to awaken to who we really are: When we accept, we stop being consumed by life and start creating life. The invitation is real. Please put something in your hands and accept.
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Come, let your writer loose at Plug In for Writers, starting August I taught the first in a series of short teleclasses on how to work in The Intersection. The Intersection is the confluence of your work or craft, your spiritual practice, and the creative flow of the universe. The first teleclass Your Creative Blessing was held in July. Peggy Lynn was one of the participants. She sent this story today of the impact of creating her Creative Blessing. I asked her for permission to reprint it for you. Not everyone has this dramatic a result, but her story IS important because it illustrates the power of saying YES to Spirit.
And, it also illustrates the astonishing amount of toxic energy we all lug around. Sometimes we see ourselves only as we think we are. I always thought I was living a life filled with joy. Yet my joy-filled life had a little gnawing going on regarding my writing. I fed the rumble and wrote whenever I could, viewing my writing mainly as a leisure-time craft.
Time to write came late at night when oh, so tired. Nevertheless, plenty of ideas were a constant and the endless cast of characters throughout my life populated my undefined literary village where words streamed onto paper as I drifted off…. Yet with children now as adults with families of their own and the three and a half-decade-long marriage dissipated, plus the chronic volunteering curbed, and even a career change back to my creative roots, I sat with some things written, but no book published, yet still joy in my life. Or so it seemed. Enjoyable writer to read. Now offering a Creative Blessing class, teleclass to boot!
Hey, I can take that even where I am! I can pick her brain. I am really good at that too — picking brains! I truly love smart people! The more the better and the more I know personally, the better person I am too. We can always learn something more, it seems. Although I thought I knew myself pretty darn well.
Creative Business Cup
I knew I have been blessed with many gifts. So many, in fact, that sometimes the tug of one gift got in the way of the other ones. When that happened, something had to be shelved. I discovered I was good at shelving things.
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Knew myself pretty well. Could I learn from Janet, the soul writing lady? Just maybe her method will work for me. Production of some of these endless ideas is just the focus I need. I can feel it in my bones. Commencing one Wednesday evening, Janet told us her story, her unfoldment as an author. She was determined to be an author. She had gifts needing use just like I do. So far so good. She had plenty of things occupying her past times. She had a gazillion signs from the Universe that all is in perfect order.
We are all on loan by Divine Appointment. Yet here we were like baby robins breaking out of their beautiful sky blue shells looking for mama to feed us something — anything. Why was our Divine Appointment on hold? I did not expect what happened.
Creativity | The Soul Directed Life
The next morning I awoke early and was full of enthusiasm. I began to write in longhand as a little poem flowed:. Believe it and know it and live your own book! Nausea swept me into the bathroom with the urgent need to expel everything and anything from my system. I felt fine a few minutes ago.
As soon as I finished the poem: I began to sweat as up chucked a watery substance tinged yellow. Not much of anything but that did not stop it from coming, and coming, and coming. Over and over again. Had I been around anyone with the flu? Had I eaten anything bad? Did I drink a little too much last night?
Not even a drop! I was so sweaty now I had to jump into the shower to cool and let water flow over me. I have a real kinship with water. So forceful with its flow. I felt as though I was actually purging my system, baptized by a Divine nod. I was cleansing myself of a toxic blockage to my flow of creativity in writing. Ordained by God, instigated by catalyst Janet Conner, confirmed by my own commitment, the time was right for me to shed the monster of doubt or procrastination or whatever toxicity within that held me back.
The time had come to evict the crafty little booger! It flowed and it flowed and it flowed even as I upchucked nothing several more times comingling with the draining water. FriesenPress 9 maggio Venduto da: Amazon Media EU S. BLXC Da testo a voce: Recensioni clienti Non sono ancora presenti recensioni clienti. Condividi i tuoi pensieri con altri clienti.
Scrivi una recensione cliente. I was bored this evening and while mindlessly browsing the 'net I saw some Jr. High School poetry on the front page of Reddit. This got me all nostalgic and I remembered a poem my 7th grade boyfriend wrote to me in pencil on lined notebook paper and folded up the way we used to fold paper notes back in the day. For some reason, twenty-one years later, it finally hit me that he probably didn't actually write that poem himself.
The verses stuck with me all these years, most likely because I plagiarized it and turned it in in place of a poem I was supposed to write the next year in 8th grade, so I searched for one of the more memorable lines using Google. It's not yet love, but getting there. So, either my Jr. High School boyfriend is now a woman named Elena Mariani and has finally decided to publish his body of work, or he stole the piece.
FriesenPress 9 de febrero de Idioma: Opiniones de clientes No hay opiniones de clientes. I was bored this evening and while mindlessly browsing the 'net I saw some Jr. High School poetry on the front page of Reddit. This got me all nostalgic and I remembered a poem my 7th grade boyfriend wrote to me in pencil on lined notebook paper and folded up the way we used to fold paper notes back in the day.
For some reason, twenty-one years later, it finally hit me that he probably didn't actually write that poem himself. The verses stuck with me all these years, most likely because I plagiarized it and turned it in in place of a poem I was supposed to write the next year in 8th grade, so I searched for one of the more memorable lines using Google. It's not yet love, but getting there.