Creativity Also Means Quiet Time

Most of the time, we associate creativity with being active -- not necessarily physically active at all, but active in that we write or knit or sew or cook or make cheese or whichever way our creativity goes. But sometimes, especially at this time of year when Earth goes quieter and quieter each day -- at least in the Northern Hemisphere -- until she momentarily stops, perhaps to take a deep breath, creativity also means appreciation of others' creativity perhaps, or maybe even taking a step back and thanking the Mother of all there is for all of creation, which in essence is exactly what enables us to be creative.

I momentarily wondered this morning if it was acceptable for me to do pretty much nothing today. I decided it was, so I swept the floor, did some laundry, afforded myself some fresh rolls for breakfast, and chilled. This week was a wee bit rough workwise because being only two people in customer support at a time when there are massive changes in the market being implemented means highly increased volumes of enquiries. It was fun, no doubt. I seem to thrive when there are 20 people waiting to talk to me despite my general dislike of people, but that's a point to ponder another day. I was genuinely, really, honestly fucking exhausted by the end of yesterday's shift, so today's chilling was not only deserved but a sheer necessity.

So, after doing the few chores that contribute to my continued serenity (I have clean clothes! I can walk around barefoot without getting my feet dirty!), I sat down to do a bit of knitting on that sock I started towards the end of August and noticed it was very quiet. I opened the computer to find youtube musical entertainment and put on some compilation of Karajan conducting the Vienna Philharmonic. Three hours in, my ears went wide. There was a Schubert Symphony I vaguely remembered, but I actually had to look up which one it was. I still don't know exactly where I remember it from, but it's beautiful, so I would remember it.

And boy, IS IT BEAUTIFUL. I went on a search to find The Moste Beautiful. And so far, I cannot take my ears (or eyes in the case of conducting hands) off Claudio Abbado conducting the Chamber Orchestra of Europe. The entire symphony spells beauty. The typical Schubert wehmütig wistful/longing sounds that are becoming less and less as the symphony continues until in the Finale, there is nothing left of that, just challenge, joy.

The Rauhnächte are around the corner. The google translation is rough nights, though that doesn't quite describe it. Rauh can mean rough, it can mean abrasive, it can mean cold, it can mean tough, it can even mean sultry. The term means those 12 nights following the Solstice when the veil is thin, when Nature dictates to go within self, to not be active outwardly. May yours be peaceful and filled with Music.