Music Saves the Day

When I find myself lost inside the façade this world pushes upon me, music brings me back. In fact, years ago a friend was lamenting her creative blockage. For those of you who do not count yourself as "artistic," imagination/creation block is exactly as it sounds; it is another form of that damn writers' block that has plagued thinking types for centuries. I wouldn't be surprised if this exists in every vocation and hobby. This friend of mine sounded so lost, and, having been there time and again, I offered the temporary cure I often use to get the juices flowing.

Music.

It's seems like such a trite suggestion, doesn't it? So cliché. Try it the next time you are caught up in your own vine-like thoughts. The music will soothe the tendrils' grips and you may slide to freedom of expression. What's the secret? Actually, there is a trick...and a caveat. The trick? The initial music you listen to can't just be anything, and it can't be what you've been listening to recently. Hop into your own personal time machine. Think back to when you were doing your favorite work. Barring that, go back to the most recent time your were creating. What did you have on repeat in your Walkman/diskman/mp3 player? (WHATEVER, I'M OLD!) That is the key to reclaiming your passion.

The aforementioned caveat? You will be inspired to recreate the style of that particular time period. It may be short-lived, and you may flow into a new style. Then again, you may end up following it into a new series of that same style that might never have occurred to you back then. Either way, you're creating again!

Of course, this post reveals the rearing of the monster blockage with whom I seem to struggle fairly regularly. Odd, though. This past semester (yes, I am still working on my degree...It's changed a couple of times...Take off your judgy pants and stay a while.) saw me drawing in charcoal and some ink. You would think that this would free up my mundanity-bound hands for freedom of luscious artistic expression. Well, unbeknownst to me, doing art from life and trying to capture real life images wasn't inspiring me to create as I once did. In fact, it was exhausting! I recall telling my mom over the phone that (*shudder*), "I hate drawing, now."

Whoa.
...
Whoa.

Then, last weekend, my sister and I went to Cambridge to see Aurelio Voltaire.

All of a sudden, I'm drawing new creatures, adjusting and finishing old pieces, and writing poetry, again. Poetry! I haven't written poetry seriously for, well, I really don't know when the last time I wrote like that. The beauty of this change, though, is that I didn't work to make it happen. Voltaire's music brought me back to a time when art was my everything. We hadn't seen him live for 15 years! (Though, it's funny, I have the picture of my sister and I with him at that past show framed on my wall. I've seen it every day for the past three years. She gave it to me as a part of a Christmas gift.) As for other creative outlets of mine, car-aoke will always be a thing; I belt at the light with the best of them! But, after some time, I have my eye on a couple of Voltaire songs I would love to cover for my YouTube channel if I can find instrumentals (and obtain permission. Though, I know not to old my breath. Everyone has their own lives and agendas, and I certainly don't delude myself into thinking I factor into any part of his.)

The point, though, is that, in dribs and drabs, my creativity and imagination are coming back. And it's all thanks, once again, to music.