Falcone's Crossroads

Where This Meets That

Chasing Butterflies


An acquaintance at work once complimented me. He said, “You’re not like most really creative people, who are just so scattered that you wonder sometimes how they even function in a real job.”

The compliment was in my apparent ability to mask it.

My mind is always multisected between countless projects. Yes, there is work. Yes, there is family. But the “creative juices” never stop flowing; they can only be dammed.  And that only holds so long.

My wife is a much more pragmatic person than I.  She admits difficulty in understanding the creative drive, that instinct that defines inspiration not as a choice but as a mandate to act upon.

I recently posted some of the paintings of child prodigy Akiane Kramarik. While browsing her website, I found a quote from her that sums it up quite nicely:

“I do not paint for praise or acknowledgment. I do not paint for money or vanity. I do not paint for influence or inspiration.

“I paint only for one reason… no special reason, at all ~ I can’t help it, I can’t stop it. It’s as simple as that.”

For me personally, between ideas for blogs, books, stories, songs, drawings, poems, etc., I feel like a boy running around a field full of butterflies to catch but with a net that is woefully too small.

It’s a constant frothing of newness and electrical charge that sparks forth from Creation, and it is undeniable.  It’s a vision or an utterance that just ensnares my drive and becomes fully a part of me in communion.

Take music, for example.

There is a part of my mind that must be just a jumble of verse, where fragments of phrases have at some point come from nowhere and logged themselves as mental notes.  Imagine one of those money-grab booths you’ve seen on old game shows, in which a contestant is trying to grab dollar bills that are blowing all around her.  It’s like that, but instead of money flying around, it’s Post-it notes scribbled with loose lines of prose.

OK, that’s one part of my mind.  There’s another part where the same thing is going on but only with melodies and musical phrases.

Every so often, one of those random verses intersects with one of those random melodies, and through that intercourse, a song just happens to be born. In some ways, I’m just there to deliver it.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to take the leap and dive headlong into unbridled creativity.  Where, I wonder, would I land? Or would I?

I can certainly imagine how such dilemmas could drive a true genius mad.

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6 comments on “Chasing Butterflies

  1. Paul
    February 8, 2012

    Your creativity is a gift from our Creator. “I can only imagine…”

  2. Shirley Whiteside McCormack
    February 9, 2012

    God has really blessed you with talents in multiple things. We’ve been blessed by having you and your brother and sisters in our family.

  3. pouringmyartout
    February 9, 2012

    This describes so many things that are going on inside my head. If my thoughts were less jumbled, and I had your incredible gift with words, I might have said it the same way. You described chaos with such clarity and directness, it makes me wonder if you don’t have a better grip on your chaos than I do on mine.

  4. Grande Falcone
    February 9, 2012

    Thanks for the comments all! Pouringmyartout, it’s all in how you mask it. Note: cutting one’s own ear off tends to blow one’s cover. lol!

  5. Pingback: Wednesday Wordplay – Rainbouquet « Falcone's Crossroads

  6. Pingback: Even the Stars Go Dark « Falcone's Crossroads

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This entry was posted on February 8, 2012 by in Crossing Guard, L'Avenue d'Artiste and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , .
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