There are so many poems in the pit of my stomach that have not yet surfaced, there are so many phrases in the fire of my mind that have not yet been verbalized

The Creative Process
By Paulo Coelho

Every creative process, be it literature, in engineering, in information technology - and even in love - always respects a same pattern: the cycle of nature.

a] field plowing: at the moment the soil is plowed up, oxygen penetrates where it was not able to reach up to then. The field gets a new face, the soil that was on top is now underneath and what was beneath turned into surface. This inner revolution process is very important, for just as the new face of that field will be seeing the sun for the first time, and be dazzled by it; a reassessment of our values will enable us to see life with innocence and no naivete.

b] seeding: every creation is the result of a contact with life. The creating Man can not lock himself up inside an ivory tower; he needs to share his human condition. He will never know what will turn out to be important in the future, so that, the more intense his life, the more possibilities he will have in order to find an original language. Le Corbusier used to say that "while Man wanted to fly imitating the birds, he was never able." The same happens with the artist: although artists are translators of emotions, the language they translate are not entirely known by them, and if they try to imitate or control their inspiration, they will never reach the goal they wish to achieve.

c] maturing: there is a time in which a work of art writes itself into the author's soul - before the artist ventures to manifest it. In the case of literature, for example, the book is influencing the writer and vice-versa. It is to that moment that the Brazilian poet Carlos Drummond de Andrade refers to when he says that we should never collect the verses that go lost, as they do not deserve to see the light of day. I know people who take notes compulsively of everything crossing their mind during the maturing stage, not respecting what is being written in the unconscious. The result is that those notes, outcomes of the mind, end up disturbing the results of inspiration. The creator needs to respect the development, even though they know - just as farmers do - that they just have a partial control over their field. They are exposed to droughts or inundations. But if they know to wait, the stronger plant, which resisted to the entire inclemency, will come to light with all its strength.

d] harvesting: this is a moment in which Man will manifest what he planted and left to mature, on a conscious level. If he harvests too soon the fruit will be green, if he harvest too late, it will be rotten. Every artist knows to recognize the arrival of this moment. Although certain questions have not matured enough yet and some ideas might not be clear and crystalline, they organize themselves as the work of art is being created. With discipline and no fear, artists understand that it is necessary to work every day until their works are complete.

And what should we do with the results of harvesting? Again, we look at Mother Nature: it shares everything with us. Artists who want to keep their works to themselves are neither being fair to what they were given in the present moment, nor to the inheritance and the teachings of their forefathers. If we leave our seeds stocked in the barn, they will end up decaying, even if they have been harvested in the right moment. When harvesting is done, the moment in which it is necessary to share one's own soul, with no fear or shame, has arrived. That is the artist's mission.

I had a dream last night.

I was strong. I allowed others to go in front and ahead of me. Because it didn't matter to take the most efficient way, I wanted to trail off on my own. To feel my own strength to take me to my destination. To make good quality time with the breeze against me. I carried a heavy load on my back but all of it was bare necessities. I was holding onto veins and making my way through the darkened roots. I fully trusted myself and forgot the existence of. . . .doubt, is it called? Yes that, it didn't occur to me what that was. I went because I knew I should, that it was the only way. I dodged teethed demons at every obstacle, they tried, but I succeeded them. Drops of fear in my blood flow only supported that I should push myself even more. It only lived so that it could remind me I was living.

And when I woke I felt accomplished, I felt so utterly good about myself. I felt that I was brave.


I felt my potential.

"Nobody tells this to people who are beginners; I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple of years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know it's normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through"

— Ira Glass

And these are the times
The times when your heart is beating next to my own

When your hands touch my skin
As though the contact is able to awaken me

You and I are words that have dissolved away
It is only Us now, love
We are all that are in the world

And these are the times
The times when we swear reality transitioned into Dream

I have accepted those moments
To dismiss the confusion on how righteous I can feel

To accept a Universe that is truly boundless
I don't question why you have come to me
But hold you closer with beauty of an answered prayer

And these are the times
The times when my eyes look deep into yours

When my sight follows the history of your face
The way you blink your eyes causes my heart to engrain deeper into my chest

Though, where are you darling?
Have the waters taken you astray, far away from my sight?
Until You and I come in unison again my dear I will hold onto these sounds of our past dreams

For these were the times

Where has the clarity gone
Each detail I use to hold precious
Here in the valleys of my hands

Where has the structure broken down
The one I use to hold onto so dearly
With the muscles of my fingers

Where has the magic escaped to
The fluid dancing melodies
As the beat of my heart

Where has the memory strayed
To find a lost home
Back where it belongs

Where has the shine in your eye hidden
I saw your mind wonder
Afar from me

Where has reality transcended
Distant from what I know
Gone into the depths of the forests

Where have I floated
In this river of dream
Blurring me away

We sat side by side together
The most silent moment I had shared that day
My dreams are becoming more true to my senses
And my reality is turning bright and lucid
Effortless without a seam
It's transitioning into "whatever"
Not that I don't care my dear
I do all tremendously
But we let go of what doesn't need to be held onto
And those things that we have of value sit with us here quietly
All along they are there but you never knew
They rest within us waiting to be stirred up
Waiting for us to be awakened to hold hands with them
Waiting to be embraced with the energy of fire in our souls
They are patient while resting in our centers
Let us feed them sparks
More and more until they build enough to break the limit
Let them exert the shockwave to revealing their core
Like the glory of a supernova but we will be reborn

Through all of the pressure and heat we find our Selves

Our Selves that are pure and have been touched by nothing else
Our Selves that have more power than before
And let us all love each other in this dreamed reality
Hand on your arm
Support on your back
Kisses on your cheek
For I love you human condition
I love you through every painful beauty you offer