Creative Living - Elizabeth Gilbert
[...] This, I believe, is the central question upon which all creative
living hinges: Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are
hidden within you?
Look, I don't know what's hidden within you. [...] You yourself may barely
know, although I suspect you've caught glimpses. I don't know your capacities,
your aspirations, your longings, your secret talents. But surely something
wonderful is sheltered inside you. I say this with all confidence, because I
happen to believe we are all walking repositories of buried treasure. I believe
this is one of the oldest and most generous tricks the universe plays on us
human beings, both for its own amusement and for ours: The universe buries
strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find
them.
The hunt to uncover those jewels—that's creative living. The courage to go
on that hunt in the first place—that's what separates a mundane existence from a
more enchanted one.
The often surprising results of that hunt—that's what I call Big
Magic.
When I talk about "creative living" here, please understand that I am not
necessarily talking about pursuing a life that is professionally or exclusively
devoted to the arts. [...] When I refer to "creative living," I am speaking more
broadly. I'm talking about living a life that is driven more strongly by
curiosity than by fear.
One of the coolest examples of creative living that I've seen in recent
years, for instance, came from my friend Susan, who took up figure skating when
she was 40 years old. To be more precise, she actually already knew how to
skate. She had competed in figure skating as a child, but she'd quit the sport
during adolescence when it became clear she didn't have quite enough talent to
be a champion. [...]
For the next quarter of a century, Susan did not skate. [...] Then she
turned 40. She was restless. She felt drab and heavy. She asked herself when was
the last time she'd felt truly light, joyous and—yes—creative in her own skin.
To her shock, she realized that the last time she'd experienced such feelings
had been as a teenager, back when she was still figure skating. She was appalled
to discover that she had denied herself this life-affirming pursuit for so long,
and she was curious to see if she still loved it.
So she followed her curiosity. She bought a pair of skates, found a rink,
hired a coach. She ignored the voice within her that told her she was being
self-indulgent and preposterous to do this crazy thing. She tamped down her
feelings of extreme self-consciousness at being the only middle-aged woman on
the ice, with all those tiny, feathery nine-year-old girls.
She just did it.
Three mornings a week, Susan awoke before dawn and went skating. And she
skated and skated and skated. And yes, she loved it, even more than ever,
perhaps, because now, as an adult, she finally had the perspective to appreciate
the value of her own joy. Skating made her feel alive and ageless. She stopped
feeling like she was nothing more than a consumer, nothing more than the sum of
her daily obligations and duties. She was making something of herself, making
something with herself.
It was a literal revolution, as she spun to life again on the ice.
[...]
Please note that my friend did not quit her job and move to Toronto to
study 70 hours a week with an Olympic-level skating coach. And no, this story
does not end with her winning any medals. [...] In fact, this story does not end
at all, because Susan is still figure skating—simply because skating is still
the best way for her to unfold a certain beauty and transcendence within her
life.[...] That's what I call creative living.
About the Author: Excerpted from Elizebeth Gilbert's book "Big Magic."
