IT WAS 3:00 IN THE AFTERNOON and I wandered aimlessly around the house - wanting something, but not able to identify what it was. I walked to the refrigerator, opened the door and looked to see what was appealing. Nothing. Did I want another cup of tea? No. What, then? Nothing would fill the void inside, and as I sat down to ponder what was going on I realized that there was a deep unfulfilled space within - a longing for something meaningful that would fulfill my need to contribute - to write - and to make a difference.

I wonder how many of us use food as compensation for the unfulfilled aspects of our lives? We have a feeling of hollowness that cannot be filled, and food becomes a temporary panacea - giving us a momentary feeling of wellbeing and comfort. When I note the number of individuals locked in addiction or are severely overweight, it becomes evident that we have become a society that is focused on meaningless tasks and shallow expectations. Yet, the soul longs for meaningful expression. And when we are bombarded by idiotic messages that lock us into hormone/testosterone driven pursuits and acquisition for the sake of having more - we begin to lose our connection to the tone we were born with.

What do I mean by the tone? Each of us has a vibration that fills us as we come into this earth experience. We are attuned to those elements that mesh with our own vibration. Some are musical. Others express through motion. This one has an engineering mentality, while that one is scientific in nature. There are multiple expressions of our uniqueness. Like snowflakes, we all have a special imprint, and the task is to find opportunities that allow those affinities to be released in a way that blesses the world and fulfills us. Then we have made a difference. Then the longing is no more.

There have been a few times in my life when that longing was fulfilled. Each time had to do with writing projects that completely harnessed my focus and imagination. For me, expressing observations is a major part of my tonal affinity. It is through communication - especially the written word - that I find myself deeply in love. All of me is engaged. Thomas Moore once wrote that if our work is not our lover, it is not our work. I understood what he meant when I wrote my novel, Vision of the Grail. There was nothing left out. The world was full, and I was keenly aware of being awake and alive.

Writing a book is a great labor - and when it comes to end, it is a completion process that can leave one bereft because that labor - that engagement - is what feeds the writer. The same can be said for any labor of love that comes to term and has an ending. The fear is that perhaps there will be no more ideas - no more projects that totally immerse us in something meaningful and soul filling.

I have found that there are cycles in a creative life. We cannot always be engaged in a process of externalizing the muse. There are down times that require digesting and renewal. It can be frustrating when we deeply yearn for that sense of being "in the zone". The zone also has to accommodate the moments of nothing when seemingly everything has stopped.

If we look to nature for clues regarding the process of creativity, we see that there are necessary stages for completion of a cycle. First we have the pristine soil. We make sure all the nutrients are provided in order to receive the seed. Then we plant the seeds that will later yield harvest. Some will grow; others will not. We nurture and water and weed out the distracting elements, and then the plant begins to make its way through the soil, reaching toward the sun, and growing into what it will become. At its apex, we harvest its fruit, and then let the leaves fall to create the mulch that will enrich the soil for next planting. After this intense period of growth and development, stillness comes. We cannot recreate the process before time has elapsed. And it is this still point that is particularly difficult for us to digest, because we live in a society so outwardly driven that when there are the down times, we feel something is wrong. Yet, the still times are some of the most important in the entire process because our internal wellspring is being refilled.

Looking at people who burn themselves out in jobs where there is never a rest - or never a space between projects that allows for significant replenishment of body/mind/spirit - I realize that the illusion of no new ideas is merely that. When we embrace the still point and allow for quiet, we flow with life and the internal muse that needs time to be immersed in spirit, not activity. We stop fighting. We stop feeling empty. We don't need to go to the refrigerator to look for something to fill the empty space, because there is nothing lacking. Fullness in emptiness. Emptiness is full. All phases are appropriate in their season. All have reason. And we, moving in concert with the whole process, need never be hungry again.

© Kathleen Jacoby, 2008

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 
Kathleen Jacoby is a writer, author, and numerologist, who has been a contributor to PLW since its beginning. Seasons of the Soul is also a quarterly print edition newsletter published since 1996, and can be purchased for yourself or as a gift at a cost of $12 per year. Contact Kathleen for more information at: KathleenEJacoby@aol.com.

You can also read Kathleen’s BLOG: www.KathleenJacobyblogs.com.