Time to Feed the Tree of Life

Among my most prized possessions are words that I have never spoken.
Orson Scott Card

I thought along these lines this morning after my meditation for a couple of reasons. First, it has been too long since I have created anything that I feel has any value to myself. The other reason is I fear I have begun to atrophy. I allowed myself to be caught up in the chaos of my circumstances, stopped living, and slipped into survival mode. I can not allow this. It is too dangerous to my life, my recovery, and to my chances of keeping in my life what I hold dearest to me.

There is a moment, a few seconds that feel like an eternity, after one has the breath knocked out of them where the base mind is unable to comprehend why the body can not take in air. At this moment a question is birthed, "Will I ever breathe again or am I dying." Knowledge and experience come into play and the higher mind says to the base mind, "Don't panic. I've only had the wind knocked out of me. Breath will come." Understanding leads to relaxation, which in turn leads to the lungs expanding on autopilot and air once more entering the body.

Life happens. Sometimes it knocks the wind out of me. I get caught up in those moments and forget how to breathe. I forget the inspiration of life around me, of life in me, and I start struggling with survival. I quit taking the time to write. I stop searching for the truth, beauty and spirit that inspires me. I cease to create, and the images inn my mind dry up before I see the resulting drought in my artistic output. I tell myself I don't feel any particular need to shoot today or to work on a new piece. I tell myself I am too busy. I tell myself I have other more important, more pressing matters to attend to.

What I do not tell myself, what I dare not admit is that I am afraid. I do not admit that I have allowed that muscle to fall asleep and become comfortably numb from the lack of circulation, because I understand on some level that when circulation to a muscle stops long enough, the muscle begins to die. I begin to feel afraid that I have lost the gift that makes me feel so alive.

Once fear is planted in one area of my life, if not quickly pulled up by its root, it spreads like weeds across the fields of my life. I suddenly find myself afraid in so many other areas of my life. Like a toxin destroying my nervous system, fear paralyzes me. I fear not finding work and being unable to meet my responsibilities and care for my family. Yet there is no action because the fear of failure has spread to this area as well and the applications are not submitted. But where does this fear stem from? Where is its root? It is in the fear that I am a fraud. That I am no true artist. That I have only lucked into a few decent images and accidently strung a few words together in a pleasing manner in the past and when my luck runs out, if it has not already, I will no longer be able to produce anything of truth, of beauty, of spirit.

The longer I go without feeding my spirit through the act of creation the weaker I become. As my soul starves to death, as I crave sustenance more and more, I realize that I have become almost too weak to consume what is present all around me. I did not see a beautiful moth on textured wall yesterday while leaning almost on top of it. Another artist had to point it out. I failed to see. I can't help but wonder how much other beauty I have missed lately. Fear gripped my soul. I felt as I imagine would a starving man at a banquet table surrounded by food and dyinng because he is too weakened by hunger to feed himself.

But finding myself in such a state is certainly not the start of the problem. One does not become so weak from starvation from missing one meal, and an artist does not become blind to the beauty around him or the images within his imagination overnight. I searched it out, and found the root of fear had grown into a tree over the past few weeks. At first I saw only the branches and leaves that block my view, but as I shared my revelation that there is such a tree in my life with another last night, I became less afraid of it. I traced the trunk down and saw my fear that I would lose her. The fear that birthed the canopy of financial insecurity had come from the fear of finding myself a failure and alone again. But that trunk grew from something else. A root of fear that dug deep under the surface of my soul before I knew it was there. I have not written. I have not shot anything to speak of since my lens was trashed, I have not delved the depths of my imagination and brought forth any treasured images in so long that my creative spirit has withered. A withered state is a sickness that causes a plant to fail to grow, to fail to produce fruit, to fail to do the very things that will heal itself and stop the withering. My soul has experienced this. And in my subconscious understanding that my soul is withering I saw death, became afraid and closed my eyes.

But closing my eyes, is the last thing I should do to reverse the trend. I must open them. I must spend more time, not less, gazing with my soul upon the nature of my God and upon the beauty He has created and allowed me to see. I must face my fear of being unable to create rather than ignoring it or running from it. Today I have already tried to trim the branches of fear in my life and poison the root. I spent an hour or so in meditation. Time with God is an excellent elixir for the all that ails. I sat down with no idea of what to say or if the words would come and began to write. I imagined several new art pieces and determined to look for images to shoot today. I will fire off at least one frame, even if I feel and fear the image will be worthless. I will Give God the opportunity to bless me and meet my needs by placing at least one application for employment. I will trust God to protect me from the pain and fear that comes from rejection should I not be hired. I will spend time with the one God has given me and enjoy the wonders of our relationship instead of fearing it will end. I will create.

And hopefully by doing these things I will see the tree of fear that is blocking the sunlight of the spirit from warming and nurturing my soul begin to wither and die. I will find the tree of life within me begin to grow green again and produce its fruit of joy, hope and love. I will cease surviving and live once more.