Featured image: Artist Linzi Lynn found @ Spirit that Moves Me Facebook page
Dream Journal 12: Four Causes of Dreams has been updated, check the post out if you wish.
“A creative person has little power over his own life. He is not free. He is captive and driven by his daemon. When the daemon is at work, one is always too close and too far. Only when it is silent can one achieve moderation.” From: Memories, Dreams, Reflections – C.G. Jung
I always had an interest in creating art, whether it was coloring in a coloring book or drawing 2-dimensional houses and stick figures as a child, I always felt happy when I was creating something. I was in my safe-zone, a place where my day dreaming was safe to run its’ course, where my imagination was not interrupted. Back then, I didn’t know the drawings I made or the pictures I colored was art, it was just something I did.
When I was younger than 12, I never considered taking drawing or writing up as a hobby, because I never thought I was good enough at anything. I floated by, in a way, and I didn’t know why. My imagination was always there, though, saving me from destructive thoughts (if only by a grain of salt). I always had images of people I never met and stories were created, images of a girl I wanted to be: pretty, confident, outgoing, social, who dances and sings when other’s are watching, strong in her ability to protect herself from predators, basically, fearless. Of course, as I grew up, this ‘girl’ became a woman and she evolved as I did.
Though I’ve always had my imagination, there was always the darker side of things that crept through, such as my thoughts of not being good enough, cool enough, smart enough, etc.
I was depressed by the age of 10, when I hit puberty, and my depression haunted me throughout my teenage years. This depression was a mix of anxiety, insecurity, and fear, and may be it is the ‘daemon’ that ignited my creative expression, enhanced my tender heart, and helped me stay empathetic to the needs of others. I became inactive after high school, gained weight (though nothing unmanageable), and my depression hit it’s peak by the age of 20. I am no longer in high school, now legally an adult. I started college, but no clear direction where to go. I began studying psychology/sociology in my associates, and thankfully it is something I still love today, so my intuition has not failed me yet.
As my depression peaked, my writing ceased. I was stuck. I began journaling around this time, writing down insights, bits and pieces of conversations with ‘spirit guides’, and my thoughts of how I felt I was at the time, and who I want to be. I wanted a serious relationship at that time, was hoping to be married by 25, and have 2 kids by the age of 30. I thought that was part of a perfect life, thankfully my thought process changed. Anyways, at this time as my depression peaked, I began to draw. An online friend of mine at the time suggested it (funny, an online friend back in 2007 suggested me to begin writing as well, and another funny thing, I no longer speak to either of these individuals, and when I did speak to them, our friendship was brief. I am thankful for that time of my life, my internet friends, but I am so glad I grew out of that and ventured into the real world).
I began drawing people, those I knew and shared memories of, to people I never met. My drawings were and are armature, but I see the improvement throughout the past 7 years. See below, from my first drawing to most recent.
Although these drawings are not masterpieces, and only a glimpse of my inner world, they are pieces of me. Some day, I would like to begin painting, most likely in watercolor and acrylic. Some of my drawings will ‘come to life’ so-to-speak, in color through my paintings. My drawings tell a story, a story of a girl turning into a woman, and a story of the worlds unseen within the layers of the mind. One day, it will all make sense – my creativity, my writings, my drawings – one day, I will understand my purpose. One day, some day. Now.