Watching the grass grow

By Kanika Frings

2015-10-27

230806_10150183539275488_5872835_nWhat is creativity?
Silence…
Again, what is creativity?
Nothing…
I don´t really know. That is the honest answer.

 

I used to experience creativity as a difficult, uncomfortable, birth-giving like process. There was a lot of fear of failure, pre-conceived ideas and comparison around it.
In short, creating anything was an arduous business for me. And I felt the pressure to create, as I found myself accepted by a renowned art academy, which gave the quality of one´s creativity a high rank and a grade of its own.

Even before, when i was younger, i could not quite trust the creative process. I tried to control the unfolding, i wanted to know it´s result, anticipate the outome.

I preferred filling colours into an already existing drawing or replicating a painting or photo. As long as the outcome was tangible, half way known. I needed a goal, a guideline, some certainty.

 

Today i believe creativity to be the diametrical opposite of certainty.

Or perhaps more of a love affair of certainty and the unknown.

Its the certainty of knowing that something is happening and yet the not knowing of what it will be. Something like that.

I feel creativity is more of an unfolding, a letting it happen, a ´sitting silently and watching the grass grow´.

That sounds way easier than it is.

 

DIMA has taught me a lot about that.

Last month Charu wrote about patience and how we were preparing the grounds, now i feel the seeds are sown, and creativity begins.

Life´s creativity, existence´s creativity…lets see what they will make of those seeds, lets watch the buds sprout and the flowers unfurl, lets see the colors come to life and which fruits they will bear.

Its simple and magical and nerve-wrecking.

Its patience and pro-activity. Its trust and still tying down one´s camels. Its being flexible while standing strong, being focused as well as open.

Its a harmonious coming together of doing and non-doing.

The seeds need planting and watering, pruning and reaping.

And then they need space and time to find their way to blossom, freely.

 

That’s where the challenge lies, I find. The stepping back, giving up the rains, trusting, letting the grass grow without interfering, unperfected.

When I manage to do that, moments that are becoming more frequent as DIMA unfolds before me, I am in awe.

Simply moved by the glory of something coming to life, in spite of myself.

It needs some of our nourishment and attendance, but mainly it needs us to get out of the way so it can organically become.