‘Droughts are a necessity’

Dearest reader – I’m back! Thanks for waiting. It’s been nearly 3 months since my last posting (crikey!) and I’ve had to ask myself “have I simply gone off the boil – forever? Maybe the blogging mojo has just evaporated (inexplicably) and I need to move on?” But something inside of me said ‘No – this is temporary – stick with it.’ I know to listen to my instincts but I have to say it was a weird feeling, suddenly switching from weekly posting to nothing, zero, zilch. What was with that?

To be frank, I don’t have clue why I dried up. I was busy but that’s not been a problem before. All I can do is shrug my shoulders and believe that this was meant to be.

We’ve all heard of the metaphor of a field that needs to lie fallow for a growing season in order to replenish itself. Maybe that was what was going on?

My friend Nancy told me today that she saw these times as a gift – an opportunity for silence and to go deep within ourselves.

Julia Cameron (she of  The Artist’s Way) talks about it in terms of a drought. “Droughts are a necessity,” she says. “The time in the desert brings us clarity and charity.’ She adds:

… as painful as they are, they deepen us. When we feel we have “nothing to say” as artists, we are grappling with what it is we do want to say. In struggling to find our sources of inspiration, we find ourselves.

Another thing: drought doesn’t disqualify you as an artist. Rather, it is a rite of passage, an initiation period that while it pains us also makes us better…  we experience a deepened gratitude for those times when art comes to us more easily.

In other words, droughts make us appreciate times of flow. As much as anything else, droughts teach us compassion for ourselves and others. Can this be anything but a blessing?

It’s true – I do feel renewed. Renewed inside of the ‘Why?’ of this blog and what the writing of it gifts me with – conciousness, connection, curiousity and celebration.

I’ll leave you with a couple of snowy pictures from the Stroud Valleys taken today. Just because… !

Edge in the Snow 1 Randwick Woods2

  1. Glad you’re back, blogging away, T. It’s true…all artists pass through seasons when nothing appears to be growing. For me, that’s the creative winter; a required season and nothing to despair over. As you know from your time in Canada (where winter is BIG) the best way to live that season is to embrace it. And the spring always comes.

    • Thanks Janet. Great to hear from you and your wise words. As you can see from my photos, our winters are a little puny compared to the fantastic Canadian winters! Interesting though that the drought came at winter-time, like you say. Velly inter-esting! xx

  2. Hallelujah–you’re back! what an absolutely wonderful post! Your fields are clearly replenished! xxx

  3. Oh I am pleased you are back x lovely to see your pics and read your thoughtful post. I love the Artists Way x I was in Painswick yesterday and the snow is amazing up by the Rococo gardens x The snowdrops are buried now after a false early start. But they will be back, just as we artists can be beaten down sometimes but we do ALWAYS come back with a fresh view and insights to share.

    • Thanks HeavenHappens – great to hear you were out and about in lovely Painswick. If you like the Artist’s Way you might like to know I’m running a course in April at Hawkwood College. Snow is melting today but gorgeous still in the sunshine. Thanks so much for the welcome back. It means a lot. x

  4. Ah yes, T… like the snow falling on everything – so frustrating in many ways at first but what amazing light!!!!!!! And to get that light in an English winter, well I look forward to similar illumination, as I often find, in your posts. Welcome back o’ post lady xxxx

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