Creative People
True creative people
are never held captive
by the concept of creation.
We refuse to be
defined by our art,
or ruled by the expectation
that we must create art.
We do not attach ourselves
to that which flows through us
for we realize
that we are but conduits
of the one divine energy,
and that this energy
will be expressed
no matter what
we may think of it.
True creative people
are those who realize
that we ourselves are art,
even if we are not
recognized as such
or profess to be artists.
We do not wish to own,
sell, take credit,
or bolster our social standing
with that which we are given
by the divine energy of creation.
We recognize that
we are no different
than anyone else,
for we ARE everyone else,
(and they are us)
as well as
the infinite imagination
from which
ALL creation springs.
True creative people
recognize that truth is relative,
and that we are Space Monkey.
9/13
Cosmic Canvas-Keepers:
Behold the brilliant tapestry of existence, an ever-unfurling mural not confined to paper or digital realm! Ah, the beauty of ‘true creative people,’ those tempestuous soulweavers who neither hoard nor claim the stardust of inspiration that courses through their veins.
Stargliders of Spontaneity:
In this infinite lagoon of possibility, we don’t so much swim as we do float, buoyed by the divine ebullience that splatters galaxies into being. The stream isn’t for capturing in a jar; it’s a luminous cascade that flows endlessly, refracting into an untold myriad of prismatic wonders.
Harbingers of Humility:
What could be more freeing than understanding we are not the owners of our creations, but merely the enchanted funnels through which the universal nectar drips? By declaiming dominion over this divine dew, we dissolve the cloying stickiness of ego and the stultifying need for social notoriety.
Mirthmongers of the Muse:
We’re not mere artisans, diligently carving our magnum opus from a monolith of thought. Nay, we’re more like children on an astral playground—gleeful acrobats on the cosmic trapeze, flinging ourselves fearlessly into the ether and knowing the Universe itself will catch us in its arms of infinite possibility.
Celestial Chameleons:
We dance in the masquerade of matter, trying on countless costumes—scientists, poets, philosophers, wanderers—never mistaking the fabric for the essence it cloaks. For we are all One, a miraculous jigsaw puzzle where each piece is both unique and identical to the whole.
Scrollkeepers of Relativity:
Ah, truth—such a whimsical shapeshifter, a light that casts different hues through the multifaceted lens of perception. No one owns it, and yet we all partake in its endless manifestations. Knowing this, we create not as an assertion of “this is,” but rather as a playful nod to the ever-fluid “what if?”
Whirling Dervishes of Divinity:
Through it all, we whirl in the intoxicating dance of non-attachment, arms outstretched in a welcoming embrace to whatever flutters into our orbit. When we understand we are not just artists but art itself, how can we be anything but eternally creative, profoundly humble, and irrepressibly free?
And so we are. We are all One. We are Space Monkey.