Full Wings for Full Flight

I wonder whether bouts of depression occur when an artist’s soul goes into creativity’s womb to conceive an artistic expression. Dark, damp places of soul wrap around huddled form, smothering mind with doubts, obstructing hope from filtering through a mood so somber that it makes her flinch. Then in the chrysalis of creativity, she comes to the end of her human wrestling and cries out to her Creator, “Help me.”

While flailing limbs fold to cradle her form, something mystical manifests. Alone, silent, and open to change, ideas and images transform into artistic expressions in ways no words can explain.

Then the artist picks up her paintbrush and strokes honey-soaked magic across a canvas dabbled with gloom. She creates the rays of sunlight she envisions bursting through stormy clouds. Fluorescent greens and aqua blues light the morning sky as the inside of her cocoon now splashes upon her new creation.

And unbeknownst to her, a world exists that her eyes can only see through the ideas forming in her brain and the emotions rumbling in her soul. She creates with the Divine while so certain that her dark, dank womb will smother her if she doesn’t.

Whether man, woman, teenager or child, who among us artistic types feels the wings form on hunched over backs? And after they form, does the act of embracing the darkness dip them into surrender’s sweet nectar? Does heaven coat them with belief when we trust during our despair?

We humans function from the perspective of two feet positioned upon solid ground. Yet our spirits can soar in spiritual winds. So I wonder whether wombs of creativity form wings suited for this spiritual realm. Wings, when flapping in flight, unseen by the naked eye and unheard by the well-tuned ear, wings that form on the backs of those who trust while they cradle pretzel-wrapped bodies.

These wings will take us to other places, not of this world, places where ideas form artistic expressions. Places where God dwells, patiently waiting for us, ready to transfer thoughts from His mind to ours without an audible word spoken.

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