Cream Your Creativity

This is it
It's time for you to go to the wire
You will hit
'Cause you got the burnin' desire
It's your time (Time)
You got the horn so why don't you blow it
You are fine (Fine)
You're filthy cute and baby you know it.

Cream
Get on top
Cream
You will cop
Cream
Don't you stop
Cream
Sh-boogie bop...

∞ Prince ∞

Yes. You heard me exactly right.

I actually am talking about soaking your panties over whatever it is you are offering to this world. I am voicing the possibility that you could achieve such a high degree of pleasure in the process of bringing your gifts through that you wind up with telltale wet spot on the exterior of your clothes, on the chair, in the bed...

Bottom Line: Wherever your magic happens, let it be drenched in the milk and honey of your gratification. That is my wish for you!

But here's the real question: Why aren't you as wet as a spring thunderstorm already?!

I'm going to go with some version of Paradise Lost. Our Western mythologies encourage us to look back at the near-fatal error or toxic violation from the past and bemoan what we lost. So, we are forever trying to recapture the one that got away.

Our perpetual nostalgia and our melancholy affinity for regret puts the brakes on our progress. But worse than that, it turns our creativity against us in some sort of sadistic fantasy where our experience of the creation process becomes nothing more than a form of negative escapism.

We stand up from each attempt, wrap our scratchy bath robe around us and bemoan the dry fuck we just consented to out of pure habit.

We are used to disappointment. No! We court it. We make altars to it. We pray before it with reckless abandon.

We say we are committed to our art (whatever that means to you) but then we go slipping around the alleyways and cheap metaphorical motels where we copulate with our own despair (even though it never gets us off).

We are, if we are honest, 9/10ths of the time, engaged in a sordid little affair with failure and despair. Meanwhile, we treat our passion like a worn out old lover for whom we can't be bothered to muster even a modicum of enthusiasm. Instead of romancing our dreams, we settle for cheap knock-offs while trying to keep up the charade of a real relationship.

Our dry bloomers do not lie!

I get it! Negativity has a magnetic pull stronger than the force of gravity. It's a bad habit that's as seductive as it is destructive. There's even something comforting about it's toxic familiarity.

But for the love of God-Dess, we must get this simple truth: Faith is creative no matter where we put it.

What we believe is possible determines what we do next. It dictates where our focus will go. When we invest in not having what we want, we dry bone our misery and never even think to open to our passion. In short, we hold back. We lose direction. The victory and the spoils go to someone else, someone who invested their faith in actually having what they want. We watch from the sidelines nursing our jealousy and our grief like a Binky.

From that vantage point, our negative faith becomes like a thick veil between us and the world. It keeps us from experiencing the richness and possibility of a life fully lived.

Oh, and here is the real kicker: It keeps the world from experiencing us!

Had enough?

Stop for a minute. Take a deep breath. Notice that some tension is starting to build up around all of this already. Truth be told, there's a storm brewing. Your negativity and your dreams are engaged in the brawl of a lifetime.

There's a tempest in your teapot honey, and you are the sugar cube.

So, what's it gonna be?

Dead ahead there's a doorway. You can choose to walk through it. You can decide to finally shut the door on Paradise Lost (with its shimmering temptations of constant misfortune and unremitting bereavement). You can choose to embrace a new reality.

In this new story, nothing ever was perfect to begin with, nor was it ever complete. There is just this big, giant, creative movement and you get to be its architect. And it gets to be yours.

Passion becomes your ambrosia, the delectable, sweet, taste treat sensation torturing your tongue with pleasure.

And juicing your jeans!