A poem for the creative soul

Stay in the not knowing as long as possible.

There is something there, calling you.

It is beyond the should’s and have-to’s. It is well past what you can see.

It takes some groping around in the darkness.

You will look awkward. You will feel unsteady. You will wonder if it is worth it.

You may even climb out of that rich loam, that deep unknown, that luscious unilluminated space of aching possibilities to fold the underwear and stack the clean bowls.

It’s ok- those are stabilizing tasks- they are the exhale, the safe space, the resting in the illuminated world.

Return and return and return to the darkness.

When you begin to find that thing, when you bump into it, and then tentatively let yourself caress it, your curiosity will kick in.

What is this soft bit and this other ragged? The feather of a morning dove and the song of your aunt Mae 43 years ago in the meadow. Can you smell the leaves crunching underfoot?

Oh, but then there is this particular shade of yellow ochre that pulls your heart as it lays down next to crimson.

Yes, there is a falling in love.
And there is a making love.

Discover through the delight of a line curling and squirming across the page, or the piccolo dancing with the long bow of the cello,
that which is both familiar and disquieting.

You have never seen it before, no one has, but you recognize it.

You will know you are getting there when you begin to giggle.

And you will draw it up into the illuminated space with your tender curiosity and delight.

Don’t rush this love making.

Don’t name it or shove it into the light before it is ready. Don’t try to understand.

Stay with it in the dark and dance.

Trust yourself.

It is only when you allow this full, slow unfolding that the deepest most needful truths are revealed.

​Stay in the not knowing as long as possible.
And allow yourself to fall in love.
 
 
Val Gilman
2022