Spiritual Guidance, Inspiration and Creativity
January 29th, 2008 | 2 Comments »I’ve been thinking about the commonalities between spiritual guidance, inspiration and creativity. Here are some thoughts.
When receiving spiritual guidance, inspiration, or a burst of
creativity, we access our right brain and our subconscious mind.
We surrender day-to-day left brain control and open up to messages and symbols from outside ourselves.
Often there is a sense of merging with something greater and letting go of individual ego.
This immersion often results in a contribution that generalizes beyond ourselves, to other people, other species, and/or our planet.
Messages and direction often come in symbols, signs or in other unexpected ways.
Trust seems essential; trust in a process that may be frustrating, puzzling, slow and confusing.
Receiving guidance, inspiration and creativity all seem to require releasing or persevering inspite of psychological blocks such as self-doubt, fear, a sense of inadequacy or criticism from ourselves or others.
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consciousness in everything, psychic and extraterrestrial experiences, and MORE!
Check out the following small example of guidance and creativity when I let go of frustration and judgment.
IRISH HARP MAGIC
The Irish folk harp can create peace and joy.
Sometimes it creates magic.
One beautiful sunny summer afternoon, I went to my favorite spot in a large public park. The trees form a semi-circle and I wanted sit in their presence and celebrate their old strength and wisdom. When I drove up, I realized I’d been pretty unrealistic — the park was noisy and crowded on such a lovely weekend day and a trio of teenagers were loudly playing their
boom box right next to “my” trees. Although I couldn’t see other people, there was a great deal of background noise: people playing games, laughing, talking, eating, socializing. I was angry and frustrated and thought about leaving. I wanted serenity.
I took some deep breaths, calmed down and decided to see what happened. In a few minutes, the harp was set up. Encircled by the wonderful trees, the harp and I rested on the
lush grass, quietly playing one of my favorite tunes about great and small fairies. In a matter of minutes, the boys turned off the boom box, packed up and quietly drove way.
I continued to play, the harp resting against my shoulder, my cheek against the sound board, arms wrapped around the strings. The air seemed exceptionally bright and clear. Birds singing in the background gradually became silent. A trio of tiny children, probably 2 and 3 years old, walked up from somewhere behind me and sat down within three feet of the harp, immediately still and absorbed. Unlike the physical activity small children usually generate, they were motionless, gazing intently at the harp, seemingly mesmerized by the
music. No adults were evident. I looked at children and smiled; they continued to listen with total fascination for an amazingly long time. Then without interrupting or speaking a word, they stood up simultaneously and walked away.
The birds remained quiet, as if entranced with this new sound. The entire park had gradually become still, listening to the harp music float over it from an unseen source. While the music drifted through the park, every creature was caught up in the magic.
After about an hour, I stopped playing. The silence lingered, as if everything held its breath, wondering if the music would resume. Gradually the birds began to chirp, slightly hesitant, as if apologizing for breaking the silence. People slowly started to talk and laugh as the magic gently dispersed.
Ordinary time and space returned. At least for the moment. Or so it seemed.