A Compulsion to Create: Reflections for 2020

Here are a few thoughts as the calendar flips to 2020. I hope these musings do not seem like platitudes. I am giving in to reflection as a way to maintain perspective during this season of transition.

I am working on multiple side creative projects—in the genres of poetry, film, theater and memoir. Some may bear fruit in 2020; other may die on the vine.

With advancing age, declining health and the combination of full-time work and family responsibilities, I realize I am limited in what I can accomplish as an artist. And quite honestly, I wish I were not so driven, so fueled by ambition to write and attempt—yes, only attempt—to create art. I wonder: How many hours have I spent trying to attain my creative goals, and what have I sacrificed along the way?

But I have learned some lessons in pursuing my side projects, and these can be applied to anyone working toward a challenging goal—whether the person is an artist, entrepreneur or business owner.

Kitchen Garbage Can. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

This is just my opinion, but I believe effort beats intelligence and discipline is more important than talent. You have to show up and do the work every day. And it’s important to appreciate the process, to pause and acknowledge minor achievement as you inch toward fulfillment of your ultimate goal.

The biggest lesson I have learned is that desire does not dictate success. Striving does not always equal triumphing. In this life, your wishes will get trampled and your dreams denied. Accepting this reality means pressing on despite the inevitability of failure, while realizing you can’t control your fate. It means being okay with who you are in the moment and not who you need to be to consider yourself worthy. That’s the fallacy. You are already worthy. You have already achieved—even if your painting does not hang on a gallery wall or your product appear on a Walmart shelf.

Slanting Desert Tree. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

I guess that’s it. At nearly 51 I see the truth of my latter years—I won’t achieve my childhood dreams. But the adult here recognizes the goodness of this mundane life—the opportunity to live and work and spend time with family. How lucky I am to just be here. To be an entrant, to earn a participant ribbon in this race.

I wish you much happiness and success in the new year.

And I will close with a couple of new, reflective poems related to the above topics:

Syracuse

This is the city where I learned to be an artist, waking at 5:30 a.m. every day to write—pecking away at poems that remained tucked inside the electronic hearth of my computer, never traveling the world, never finding an audience. This is where I learned that sometimes ambition and discipline are not enough, that there is no magic recipe for success. This is where I learned that you have to accept rejection and bear the shame of failure without getting deterred, rising again each morning to face the blank page—fully aware that your words may never be seen by other eyes. This is where I learned that although I may not be good enough, the compulsion to create demands that I write—no matter what. This is the city where I learned that for me being an artist was never a choice.

Shift in Thought

At some point
you have to
deal with the
Who you are
instead of the
Who you want to become.
By now the
form is fixed.
You are
complete as is.
Don’t expect
anything else.
Don’t hope
for anything more.

Standard