Creativity is my way of escaping from this world.
I love to run. But I don’t run for the exercise. I run for the feel of the pavement, my footfalls pounding out a pagan rhythm on the hard earth. I run for the wind streaming through my hair, tossing my curls in the breeze. It’s not about escaping to something. It’s not about escaping from something. But your body knows what to do. You don’t think about anything. You just breathe and run and be and it feels like you are flying. It feels like being free.
I sit at my piano and place my hands on the keys and just feel. The motions of my fingers, the corners and angles of the notes on the page, the flow of air through my lungs. I sit and play and sing; and for that brief time, nothing else exists. It’s just me and my music.
From the moment I open my flute case and begin to assemble the instrument I can feel the pull of that mystical otherworld ready to draw me in. Ready to welcome me, to accept me, with no reservations and no expectations. A world where I am free simply to drift and dream.
I love to drive late at night, my mind wandering through vast wastelands, mystical forests, underground caverns, cities dark and empty under the twinkling stars of the night skies. Driving the miles all alone, it is as if the rest of the human race has vanished from the face of the Earth. As if none of the stress and cares and worries exist anymore. Free of all limitations and restrictions.
These are the same places I go when I write. I sit at my computer, rest my fingers on the keyboard, and allow myself to be transported to the worlds of my dreams and fantasies. People, places, and feelings come to life under my fingers. My hopes and fears, my dreams and passions, my nightmares and the endless longings of my soul are suddenly real and tangible and true in the way that only fiction can be true. All those things kept locked inside set free.
That’s why I write and play and sing and run. I do it for that feeling of ultimate freedom. Creativity sets me free.