Why Am I Here? The Purpose of Creation

I like to imagine if I had been born at a different time I would have been devoted to a quiet life of artistic creation with a patron who would come knocking on my door to collect my art and sell it. And in between projects I would learn about herbalism and heal the villagers’ ailments, at least until I was condemned for being a witch.

I am immensely happy that witch hunts are over (the “burning at the stake” version, anyway) but growing up I had the impression that being an artist was no easy feat. This didn’t stop me from composing poems, writing stories, singing and playing music or taking pictures of shadows. It didn’t stop me from studying Photography and an English degree either. I had many interests but ultimately I wanted to be a writer. And yet by the time I finished my studies I had already given up on my dream. 


Earlier this year I came across Julia Cameron’s book The Artist’s Way. It was a magical moment, one of those that whisper fate in your ear, like Arthur pulling out the sword, like Harry receiving the letter from Hogwarts, like Bilbo finding the One Ring. I like to think the book was calling to me like these three magical objects. 


I had purposely gone book hunting, this much is true. But I went with the blind trust that lets itself be guided by something greater. The book was barely visible, hidden in a corner. I felt that old excitement that I feel when I’ve found something precious. “It’s too expensive”, the mind said. I stood by the shelves and read a few pages, entranced by the content. Soon I knew it had to be mine. I stroked the beautiful golden letters on the cover and decided to ignore the mind. Sometimes you just know. 




I sat under the trees to read and since then my days are filled with morning pages and artist dates (more on that later) and a sense of wonder. I am, once again, the child who loved to play with words, who marveled at art and felt music in her very core. This magical book put me back on the path I had abandoned years ago and helped me remember what my purpose was:

Creating.


We are beings of creation. We take elements from life and mold them and play with them until they become pure expression. We start when we’re old enough to build sand castles, sing tunes and draw lines on a piece of paper. It is in our nature. We feel that energy that flows within us, inspiring us with an idea that demands to be materialised, and we answer the call.


But one day we stop answering the call and forget what it feels like to see life through the eyes of an artist. One day we start taking ourselves too seriously and the critical voice in our head makes us doubt everything we do and think. One day social conditioning makes us compare our creations with others’ creations and our shortcomings become so obvious that we shut down the creative energy that our inner child, our inner artist, thrives on.


One day we choose to believe growing up means abandoning our dreams.


Until we hear a whisper that leads us to a hidden book with golden letters on its cover.


This blog is my own quest to explore the artist within me and an invitation for you to explore yours. I will often talk about writing and creativity but also about personal growth. I believe art is a powerful method to heal and the world needs immense healing right now. If this blog found its way to you, it probably means there's a message for you here. Follow the whisper. Perhaps it will lead you someplace magical.

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