Creativity and our Connection with the Universal Mind

Creativity is an interesting thing because nobody can really tell another person how to be creative. Many people have told me that they are not creative at all, but I don’t believe them. Some people express their creativity more than others, while many people prefer to think of themselves as analytical thinkers. But all of us have creative imagination as well as the ability to think logically. I think that creativity is intrinsically a part of every human being as much as the capacity to love.

Many people don’t develop their creative faculty, or they lose touch with it because they are not encouraged to use it. Although I have always written poetry and/or kept a journal, I put less effort into it in the time when my office job consumed most of my time and energy. The most useful advice I got to help me actually start writing fiction, something I had dreamed of doing for 14 years before I started, was from reading interviews with established authors like Neil Gaiman and Paulo Coelho. I learned that an author doesn’t need to have everything exactly worked out before starting to write, and that the unconscious is a valuable tool. Having gathered enough courage and filled to the brim with frustration with my circumstances, I started writing without really knowing what I was doing. What emerged was at times unexpected, and it intrigued me.

The creative process is fluid, and reflecting on it I cannot say that I truly know what the relationship between me, the story and the characters is. I used to think that an author invented a story, and for me the idea was a barrier as I felt that it was too difficult to think of something as brilliant as some of the stories I have read. Things changed when I asked for a story, and met the characters in another realm, and asked them to tell me their story. In that way, something sincere started to unfold. Rather than achieving something, I felt that my first novel, In Search of the Golden City, was a journey through which I learned a lot about myself and my personal path. The creative process is all the more spell-binding when I work with it even though I don’t understand it.

Through creativity I feel a connection with the universe, and this brings to mind the mysterious Source of everything we know. The idea of the universe as a creation has been in dispute by mainstream religion and mainstream science, as if our human minds could know the answers to something as profound and impenetrable as universal origins. I have at times felt that talking about “creation” is heretical in the eyes of supporters of the science paradigm, because it presupposes the idea of an intelligent force behind everything. To some people it smacks of religious dogma, and to combat it, they would rather embrace the idea of an accident without purpose. Religious and scientific dogma aside, I do feel that there is a Creative Source that I am sometimes more in touch with than others, and that magic and healing start happening through communion with this Source.

As an artist, when I create something, it doesn’t always come out as planned. What I create has a will of its own, and the process is most powerful when I allow that will to come through me. In that sense, I don’t feel like a creator at all, rather an instrument. Although my characters are sometimes in conflict with one another, they are part of the same story, and they learn from one another since each expresses an aspect of something that is buried within me.

Suppose then, we wove our own stories through the universe as a work of art, what would our relationship with the Creator be? I think that question is as open for interpretation as the one of what my relationship with the characters in the stories I write is. In my opinion, the conventional idea of intelligent design falls short when it advocates a creator that made the universe a long time ago but is essentially separate from it. The idea of accident without purpose doesn’t ring true either. Without pretending to know anything, I could imagine that we are all part of the same dream, and that each person or thing is an aspect of the dream. As we live, we could strive towards creating bright, powerful stories with the full magic of being a facet of a glorious and unfathomable dream. Or we could play a part in a dull story directed by those who deny the spectacular life force, if we believe in their power rather than our own.

Forests, Competition and the Circle of Life

I recently spent a week up in the Scottish highlands for a conservation project with an organisation called Trees for Life. The main focus of the charity is replanting the Caledonian forest, which has been destroyed by human activities through the course of centuries. Some of the destruction was due to material needed for warfare, while farming, commercial hunting and the disappearance of large predators also played a role. On this week I was in training to lead conservation volunteers, and I had to assist with planting demonstrations and other conservation activities. Talking to the land and the trees is habitual for me, but my practical conservation knowledge is limited. So when I led the planting demonstration, I mostly did it by the book.

During the activity, a volunteer asked whether it is necessary to remove grass from the surrounding turf to eliminate competition and give the newly planted tree the best chance to survive. I passed the question on to another facilitator, and he said that because machine mounding had been done, the terrain was prepared. The practice of removing the top layer of vegetation around the tree might have been required if this weren’t the case. In the meantime, however, I have learned that results are poorer when this is done.

The plantation in the distance and clear land in the
foreground. It is difficult to imagine that most of
the land was once covered by natural forests.

We were working in the heart of a plantation. Looking around at the imposing non-native trees planted in rows with almost militant precision, our task of recreating a near-natural forest was daunting to say the least. Those small native trees have to be given the best chance to survive, and planting is hard work and time-consuming. I find it almost heart-breaking to think of the beauty and tranquillity of natural forests that could be destroyed so easily through aggression, greed and short-sightedness. The effort to rebuild is painstaking, and the irony is that if we left Nature to her own devices she would create a majestic work of art, without being paid for it and seemingly with no effort, just because life. If only we could learn how to work with nature, how to be nature, then maybe we could leave a legacy for generations after us without destroying what should be available to them.

That idea, competition. In terms of conservation ecology when one is trying to give nature a helping hand, it makes sense. Those tiny trees have been cultivated by human hands with a lot of care before they are given a proper home. Working with them in the nursery, I get a sense of excitement, as if they can’t wait to push their roots deep down into the earth and reach up, little by little every year, to drink in light from the sun and touch the stars. They have to be protected, otherwise all the sweat and love that have been poured into them go to waste. A good idea rots if not properly applied, but if it doesn’t work after having been given the right kind of effort, the energy moves on to be used elsewhere.

Nonetheless, I have to reflect on how our ingrained ideas springing from millennia of conditioning influence our understanding of nature. Looking at nature, I see a circle of life, and in her presence I feel connection and flow. There is a clash in my soul between this calm presence and society’s idea that we need to fight for some things and compete for others. Seeds grow when there is a proper place for them to do so, and a healthy ecosystem is established when different species work together as one organism. When the life force is behind it, the right time for everything to grow and decay establishes itself. This is the sacred energy that many people feel in natural forests. Somehow I can’t help wondering if our beliefs that some people deserve life more than others, and some ideas are worth defending more than others, cause the imbalance that ruins the harmonious working together of organisms. I wonder, if we stop aligning with ideologies that exclude others from our family, whether the idea of competition would also fade away. Maybe then we could approach our homes and relationship with those outside of our homes as an ecosystem, where there are no defined boundaries, but wellness on a small scale can be expanded indefinitely no matter what the size of the population is.

It is clearly preposterous to think that one part of a forest has to compete with another part of a forest. A forest would be boring if one species had to reign supreme or if other species were extinguished. There is space for everyone, and where only one thing can grow in any particular place, the species that would be able to adapt best would be the survivor. I could imagine that other plants would willingly step aside and say, “Clearly this is a better place for you, so I would find another place to thrive. I’ll sit on the hilltop and talk to you while you stand in the shade.”

I’m hoping that those of us who have the privilege of spending time in nature will take her wisdom back to the concrete jungle with us. I have faith that the more we bring our forgotten human nature to our disconnected lifestyles, the more we would see healthy forests in our living spaces, and the less land would be used for purposes of exploitation and conflict. I wonder if the idea of eliminating competition to ensure the success of our own enterprises, even in conservation projects, would eventually be replaced by one of consciously working together to restore harmony on earth.

Clouds and Dreams

Nature talks to us, and often reveals to me something about what’s going on in my own mind. Clouds have caught my attention over the last week, especially the wispy kind that drifts in a clear blue sky. In Scotland where most days are marked by an overcast sky, these light clouds are pleasing to the eye. To me clouds represent dreaming, and reflecting on them I gained insight into the relationship between ideas and action.

Clouds vary in shape and form. They represent illusion in the sense that they appear soft like cotton, but consist of water. They are continually in motion, moved by currents that are invisible to the eye. It is easy to see a vision in clouds, signifying the uniqueness of each person’s point of view. The perceived shape is never true to the actual shape of the cloud, and since it changes all the time, it reminds of the fluid character of dreams. Clouds vary in tone, more so when the sun is shining. Where an endless blue sky can become monotonous, clouds that reflect the interplay between light and darkness give character to the heavens. The overcast aspect of clouds indicate the collective nature of thought and reality: while each perspective is unique, we also co-create the world through the way we dream together.

Representation of the World Tree:
the Shamanic Model of the Spiritual Realm

In the shamanic model of the spiritual world, there are three aspects which are connected to one another through the symbolic world tree: the upper, middle and lower worlds. In my experience, the upper world is the realm of wisdom, guidance and creativity, and often the place where inspiration is found. The middle world is the one where we assert ourselves, and the lower world signifies power and earth energies. To reach the upper world, a shaman needs to move his consciousness up the world tree and through a boundary that indicates the limit of the middle world. From there she has access to the universe of light represented by the sun, the moon and the stars, marked by freedom from the heaviness of the earthbound realm. Perhaps because of their dreamy attribute, I see the border between upper and middle worlds as a layer of clouds. The realm of the upper world is marked by infinity, but the creative energy of the universe can only take unique expression within boundaries, otherwise it becomes lost. From this perspective, clouds represent the thought processes beyond which we have to move to get inspiration, but to establish these ideas, we have to return to the material world where we act. Clouds contain the elements of air and water, indicating that intellect and emotion work together in the creative process. The light or fire on the other side of clouds signifies Source that acquires depth through the individual perception of its contrast with the shadows.

One element that is missing from clouds is earth, which represents the material reality. When it comes to dreaming, the biggest challenge is often how to give structure to our visions in a world ruled by restrictions. Clouds can never be captured, and by the time their substance reaches the earth, their form is lost. The dreamer can, however, plant seeds, and build on what he would like to see grow. When seeds are planted and nurtured under the right conditions, at least some of them will find a way to grow, aided by the sun and the coming down of the clouds. There is a lot that the planter has no control over, and this illustrates that although working with love is necessary, trust is also required. While dreams can reveal something of our connection to the universal mind, the matter that we work with doesn’t truly belong to us, and sometimes it’s best to let the universe decide how and in what way our dreams will come to fruition. The dreamer is an instrument of universal will as much as the entirety of creation is an expression of something we cannot know or understand.

Faith as a Choice

Much of what we learn in any system is based on a reasonable amount of certainty. In life we value security, which depends on certainty. We do certain jobs because we are fairly sure we will be able to survive in that way. We act around people in a way that we know they would find acceptable. We can take for granted that we would need to pay the rent every month, and if we have enough money we will be able to get by. From this perspective, our world is constructed through faith in something, and often the agent that determines our reality is far removed. We can trust that economists, scientists or successful people know how everything works, but when it comes to the everyday experience, most of us have little control over the demands of our modern lifestyle. The effort involved in keeping going serves as a welcome distraction from the need to find answers as to why things are the way they are.

Faith is a central theme in religious and spiritual frameworks. Through these practices, the gaze moves inward and salvation is sought through cultivating a strong and positive character. This can then serve as a counter-agent to those outside forces that affect our well-being in a negative way. In these traditions, doubt is often portrayed as the crippling agent that causes the seeker to deviate from their path. Certainty in what one believes in in this context is an important precursor to personal freedom. In science, faith in what cannot be determined empirically has a bad reputation as it is not conducive to factual knowledge. Probability and argument provide the framework, but certainty and objectivity are still the ideals that are strived for in a quest to gain knowledge. Where there is doubt, it is only considered useful to the extent that it indicates lack of certainty. Even scientists have faith in their methodology, which is intertwined with subjective judgement of whether the knowledge gained is valuable or not.

A lot of motivational speakers I have encountered have highlighted the importance of believing in oneself as a necessary precursor to success. I think it’s true; I have found that if I don’t believe in myself I have almost zero chance of achieving something. But the human psyche is more complex than that. Often belief in oneself is lost through some kind of pain or rejection, or even psychological domination by another. I think a good illustration of the principle is the black consciousness movement in apartheid South Africa, where leaders such as Steve Biko have shown how mass oppression was possible through psychological control. Where self-confidence is lost, it often indicates a wound that needs slow and gradual recovery for an integrated, empowered psyche to emerge.

In all these frameworks, certainty and faith are the cornerstones for building something of value. The question of what the value of doubt is, if there is any value at all, remains. I have often been lost in doubts, and felt worse for it when people who felt very strongly about their spiritual views have reprimanded me for it. I think doubt is necessary as it creates space for enhanced perspective. Where there is blind faith, one can be disillusioned, and where there is absolute belief in anything, it is easy for someone to take advantage of one’s consciousness. History has shown the destructive power of belief in an ideology where people can be led to commit evil deeds without questioning their own actions.

Doubt is not easy to handle, especially in a world where those who are most certain of themselves often emerge as winners regardless of whether or not they are actually right. I think that every seeker of life and its mysteries comes to a point where they feel deeply uncertain about themselves and their understanding of reality. But I think that doubt is as necessary for growth as faith. Doubt provides the opportunity to review our priorities. In that way, we can consciously choose where to apply our efforts according to our own values and principles. The power of faith is illustrated through the placebo effect, and there is a reason why every single therapeutic treatment or medicine has to be tested against a placebo. In medicine, faith in one’s own ability to recover is the one thing that has consistently been proven to be effective.

In a universe where little can be known with absolute certainty, and even then only a small segment of reality, the power of faith to me shows the importance of taking charge of one’s own psyche. When faced with the unknown that is at the heart of important questions such as which path is the right one to choose for one’s life, the creative potential of faith is enormous. In a sea of possibilities, faith is the tool to bring into being the things we love most, and to transcend darkness in our deepest moments of despair. Doubt encourages humility, and also serves as a reminder to investigate different points of view before deciding our stance. Where we cannot be right or certain of everything, faith is the best chance we have of creating the world according to our vision.

Contemplating the Ocean

I find the ocean to be a curious reflection of our own make-up as humans. The largest proportion of the earth’s surface comprises oceans, much like our bodies predominantly consist of water. The ocean’s water is salty, and so is human blood. Tides are ruled by the moon, as is the female menstrual cycle. The ocean affects climate and weather cycles, which also impact our sources of food and shelter. Oceans can be a means of transport, but they aren’t free from danger. Despite the destructive power of the ocean, it has a calming effect on my mind.

One of the fascinating aspects of the ocean is its depth. Even those humans who venture into the ocean can barely skim the surface. The seas have shaped our collective history as humans and yet the average person knows little about it. When chunks of the ocean become frozen, only the tip of the iceberg is visible above water. At deep levels there is very little light, and the magnitude of life at those depths evades our understanding. Where land meets sea, the waves that crash on the shores have been travelling for miles on end.

In mystical and psychological terms the ocean is symbolic of the unconscious mind. To me this portrays how much of what we experience in our daily lives is influenced by a hidden realm where there are multitudes of unknown life forms. As humans we grow in the water of the womb before we are born as individuals. Our corporeal incubation in water cannot be remembered, and I think the same applies to our consciousness. The vastness of the ocean can only be felt through contemplation. The waters of the seas are all connected to one another. When we touch the waters we have access to, we interact with the depths and the life forms residing in them.

In astrology and Roman mythology two major archetypes are associated with the ocean: Venus and Neptune. In astrology both are linked with love and artistic inspiration. Water is also the realm of emotion, and to me this illustrates how inspiration springs from unknown places in ourselves, mediated by emotion. The uncontrollable aspect of water tells me something about the nature of love. Very little is known about the depths that move us, but few actions are worthwhile unless inspired by the power of love.

Symbolism in the Mundane: a Message from Feathers

I love seeing symbolism in the mundane, and recently I have found a message in the way feathers appeared to me. Feathers are useful tools for me in my energy healing work, but I have been without them for almost two years. This is because I moved to a different continent and could take very little with me. I left my feathers behind — ironically because they would not have caused problems with my baggage limitations — thinking that I would find new ones. I also reasoned that I had to be able to do healing work with or without the tools.

In the year and a half that I was in Scotland before returning to South Africa for a visit, I did not find a single feather, despite visiting the park on a daily basis and embarking on a few trips to the wild highlands. Back in South Africa I found to my delight that my old eagle and owl feathers, which I had left at my mother’s house, were still intact. I also found some more guinea fowl feathers and this time I took all of them with me on my return to Scotland. Since my arrival back, there have been feathers everywhere.

The feathers I had were special to me due to my relationship with the birds in question. The eagle appeared as a symbol of courage during one of my first encounters with spiritual healing, and is also the inspiration for my first novel, In Search of the Golden City. I have been drawn to owls since I was a child, and they came to me particularly in times of need. The owl feather I have came from barn owls that nested in our chimney. One of the birds got stuck and we had to rescue it. It was quite an emotional experience, especially when we saw that as soon as it was free, it joined another one in flight that had been waiting for it. Owls have also appeared to me in dreams a few times, often before or after I saw one in the physical world.

To me the message in the sudden abundance of feathers was one of cherishing what I have and believing in my own connection with spirit. This also relates to the process of soul retrieval, where healing is done through recovering lost aspects of the self. To bring the best of myself to the world, I have to use everything I have been given and be careful of discarding it due to the demands of the material world. If I honour what is precious to me, I will see more of it in the world around me. However, if I leave it behind thinking that there will be more to come, its presence in my life will diminish.

Step One: Stop Creating the Problem

It’s easy to push one’s hopes and dreams aside when entangled in life’s challenges. While trying to keep up with the pace of modern life, we don’t find time for doing what we love, never mind think about how to change direction. Often it’s true that for a limited time one cannot find one’s way out of a hard place, but when misery becomes a never-ending cycle it could be a comfort zone that one is too afraid to step out of. Life can be harsh at times and it’s tempting to turn misfortune into an excuse to avoid finding one’s way.

There is no way out of the web of fear and worry if one continues to spin it through one’s daily actions. Part of the problem is our dependence on others who all spin their own webs that interact with ours. This is especially true when it comes to financial matters. But when one has a vision for one’s life, I believe that motivated action and perseverance will bring it into being. When we don’t know the way from where we are to where we want to be, the first step is to stop creating the problem. While we cannot stop participating in all our problems at once, we could look at what is closest to home and begin with what we can change. It could be as simple as choosing to look beyond perceived limitations, or facing one of our fears that we have been unwilling to deal with.

When the wheel has been set in motion and the will to change is present, I have found that allowing one’s actions to revolve around fear becomes increasingly unbearable. While courage builds, spaces open up where one has let go of filling one’s days with meaningless activity. In these empty spaces where we learn to find our feet, our strength of resolve is tested. It is here that we have to confront the voices of self-doubt that try to persuade us that we are smaller than our vision has shown us we can be. Here we have to resist the temptation to return to our old ways and be willing to step into the unknown.

As soon as we stop re-creating our problems, a multitude of possibilities open up. In this space we see that the world does not define our potential, but we define the world. To change a problem, the best (and sometimes hardest) place to start is with ourselves.