It had been years. My creative self, hidden, ignored and dusted, solemnly approached, wandered from one thought to another. Waited in anticipation to be touched upon. Yet, here I laid, disillusioned, content with the course my life was embarking upon. Fooling myself with the belief that this was the focused me, aiming to reach for the skies.
Cometh summer, and I entered the university. A jolly good, breezy introvert drafted to a different city. Yet, a gnawing feeling continued filling the pit of my stomach. The feeling of emptiness, something amiss. A feeling of something I was supposed to be doing, not sure of what it was.
One month to another, hundred of books and a notebook full of doodles later. I remained illusioned, ignorant of the spark that remained absent.
*BOOM!* a voice woke me up in the library.
“Did you make this up?” asked the nerdy librarian, pointing at her caricature that laid on the table. Gleefully, I admitted to the fact, looked at her and said:
“Thank you, miss! Thank you!”
In the seriousness of my thoughts, I had reconnected with my creative self. I knew what I was missing. The spark of creativity, the hobbies that I had blatantly ignored, tortured for attention. The sole form of expressive self, my real self. Re-vigored and re-energised I had found what I was missing. The absence of which reflected in my life graph.
What I was missing were the passionate hobbies, that I had, the natural skills and talents that I possessed. The thing that defined me. Creativity!
Creativity is a gift imbibed in each and every one of us. When we cut off ourselves from that gift we temporary suppress our joy and expressive selfs. Discovering the creativity that we are missing can move us in directions that we might never have thought of. Rather than the masterpiece, go for the joy of creative self.