The funny thing about so-called art and creativity

"Kierkegaard declared that too much "possibility" led to the madhouse. But when I came upon these cautionary words, I already had what Kierkegaard called, "this sickness of infinitude," wandering from one path to another with no real recognition that I was on a search and scarcely a clue as to what I might be after. I only knew that at the bottom of each breath there was a hollow place that needed to be filled."

- Peter Matthiessen

The funny thing about so-called art and creativity (and yes, even science!) is that it is conceived in chaos, as is heroism and new thought.

It's always a difficult path to follow - that of the explorer, the wanderer or the artist. It's a path of much pain, but of as much fulfillment.

Chaos is where such a person lives, works, and creates. I don't believe that such people choose this path over any other in life, but that they are driven by strange internal demons, cursed to seek and never find, ordained by divine right to plunge into the centre of chaos and drag screaming, out of the madness, some semblance of sanity, some perspective where all is revealed - even if only for a moment.

Why is it that great images, great writing, great science, and great music can introduce us to complete joy and ecstasy. Precisely because, when we experience greatness, some part of that perspective is passed on to us - some part of that moment where all is whole, where everything makes sense.

Why is happiness momentary? Why is love so important? Why is the pursuit of joy and meaning 'forever' so futile?

Perhaps just because order can only be momentary, and chaos is the real way of life. Perhaps the negative connotation we give to the very idea of chaos is the problem.

Have you ever travelled down a series of river rapids? Have you ever been caught in a violent storm? Have you ever looked on the face of real beauty?

You know that feeling - of completeness: complete power, complete beauty, complete terror, complete perfection!

Those are such moments when nature is completely herself, just as we are completely ourselves only when we are completely immersed - in love, in passion, in danger, in being so totally in the moment that nothing else exists. It is when we have no past, no future, no knowledge or consiousness of anything outside or inside ourselves that we are truly, completely human.

And yet this world is engaged in a collective retreat from this joy. Everything we do is a defense against ourselves. it always has been. Every religion, every organisation, every school, every prescribed cultural rule has become a withdrawal from the very thing it purports to celebrate - call it what you will: the Godhead, Nature, the Infinite Is, the Collective Unconscious, Divinity, God or the Devil.

Why?

I don't know....

All I do know is that my path leads down crumbling cliff faces. If following my heart means living as an outcast - of this world but not of it, I have no real choice. It is the way I am.

I know, instinctively, that my answers lie in the chaos and the suffering that surround us. I know that I am a creature of that chaos - born and raised in it, and destined to die by it's hand. And yet that thought is strangely comforting, not in the least terrifying.

I have often been asked - what do I do? Who am I? What is my profession? Who? What? Why?

Well, the answer is that I don't really have a job description. I'm a student, and servant, of the chaos. I do different things, but they are all piqued by my curiosity to see the next great moment, the next revelation, the next perspective that throws everything else into sharp relief. At the moment I'm a teacher,but I have done many different things through my life and this is just my latest whim. I have, in the past, been a writer, filmamker, actor, producer, director, storyteller, student, motorcycle rider, and clown - but that has never been what I am.

I guess, if I had to put a label to it, that I'm a professional gypsy - nothing more,nothing less...