Lately, I’ve felt more inert than usual. Unsure where to channel my energies. Lacking inspiration.
I can give you plenty of reasons why: the home stretch of my Saturn return, current transitions and shifting obligations; that the more I dare replace the inner critic with positive visualizations, the more it clings to its necessity.
But I am more interested in the possibilities of such dry spells, writer’s block and creative dead ends. One reason I so value the artistic process is that it does not follow a straight line. While sitting down to actually do the work is vital, so is knowing when your conscious effort must hand off to something more mysterious.
No wonder the Greeks had the Muses— they needed some outward personification of art to remind themselves that art is the product of a relationship, a process that extends beyond our knowing or effort. We can do “everything right,” have days and months of great ideas and still have months of dry spells. There’s this saying from Chinese Buddhism that comes to mind: the clearly enlightened person falls into a well. Sometimes, we find ourselves disconnected from the source, trapped in the maw of a dark cave with little light to see your way out. But is the cave not also sacred?
I imagine mine is dark and deep. There is shimmering crystal lining some of the walls, and symbols painted onto the rock. I only have a match so I can only see hazy details of the whole picture. But there’s also an opening in the ceiling of the cave, revealing a night of stars— so far, yet I can still see them from this dark hole.
Every part of the process, even the not-making, the wandering, the blocks, is vital. Each part of the cycle is necessary grist for the mill.
So if you find yourself stuck or uninspired, I offer some tips for cave-dwelling or finding space when change seems impossible. Much of this wisdom comes directly from my Creative Praxis consult, where you have access to all my tips for living the life of an artist, uniquely tailored to your natal chart. Because art isn’t just a thing you do: it’s a way of seeing, of being in the world.
What is a Cave?
The word “cave” comes from the Latin cavus, meaning “hollow”. While typically made of rock, caves are defined by their lack. We enter a cave not with conviction but curiosity and perhaps a bit of trepidation. And if we’re stuck in a cave, it can be terrifying and claustrophobic.
Signs you might be in a cave: lack of motivation, no “good ideas,” rampant inner critic, a sense of futility. We feel like we are running out of options or stuck in a dark, uninspiring place.
But it is only in the dark unknown that anything new is born. Just like the cave itself, perhaps the stuckness is also a hollowing out to make room gor the next new thing. But first we must embrace our emptiness, for as long as she lasts.
The Dictionary of Symbols tells us that paintings were left on cave walls not for mere preservation but for “cult and sacred rites”.1 Author Juan Eduard Cirliot calls caves “a form of sanctuary, a haven of symbols” away from the consensus reality.2 Vision is distorted and intimate in caves, much like the subjective recesses of our hearts and minds. Here we can follow the inner logic set out by the artist, filtered through our hazy, candle-lit vision. We can create a cocoon that is valuable just for keeping us warm, inspired and contained.
Cirliot also sees caves as valuing nature and the material over spirit. One does not transcend the cave but is drawn deeper down into matter. We are not trying to make a whole philosophy out of cave-dwelling but instead find the particulars of our specific cave. We must simply embrace being stuck and, by paying attention to the feeling of stuckness, we can appreciate this season, perhaps allowing it to turn into the next one.
Here are some tips from cave-dwelling.
Embrace small spaces
“O God, I could be bounded within a nutshell and call myself the king of infinite space, were it not that I had bad dreams”.
Hamlet, 2.2.
We are often frightened of darkness because it conceals an unknown but the darkness of the cave is also what allows us to infinitely project our imagination onto its walls. In “Earth and Reveries of Respose,” Gaston Bachelard points out that “[f]or dreamers, it seems that the smaller the being, the more active are its functions”.3 He compares it to the dynamicism of an atom, whose electron clouds will always keep the exact location of the outer particles a mystery; or the tiny scale of fairies. Paradoxically, small spaces encourage intricacy and detail.
The same with darkness. “The color black,” Bachelard tells us, quoting Michel Leiris, “‘is by no means the color of emptiness and nothingness but rather the active hue that brings out the deep and therefore dark substance of all things’”. Paradoxically, darkness engenders activity, color, complexity.
Putting limits on your movement can allow deep creativity to flourish. Within your given limits, what can you do? Try only drawing on a single sheet of paper. Choose one word or concept or prompt and write everything you can about it until you’ve run out. Then see what comes next.
Count your favorite things
“There is a Zen statement, After ecstasy the laundry, which we might reverse to say, After much laundry comes a moment of ecstasy. The smaller ecstasies (arts) keep us nourished so that we have the strength to continue working on the larger art.”
Corita Kent4
Even when I feel stuck creatively there is still good food to be made; literature and art to enjoy; vivifying phone conversations to be had. Even if you can’t create right now, you can remind yourself why you make art in the first place by bringing your favorite things closer. Don’t underestimate the power of a walk before work or treating yourself to a favorite pastry just because. Keep track of all the significant-to-you details of your day to remind yourself that even when they seem to run together, each moment is unique. Anything can be a portal.
Hollow yourself out
Free write. Close your eyes and ask god to paint a picture. Meditate in front of a blank canvas. What would it be like to go toward emptiness rather than away from it? What new ideas could come forward if you relax into the dark for a while or if you move with the darkness?
Call on your Muses
Even when we feel there is nothing to do, we can always pray. You need not believe in any god because the plants, the sky, the stars around us are alive and happy to be in conversation. Same with your ancestors and land spirits. Same with the muses, whom the Greeks have been invoking for millennia. These divine forces want to help us, but etiquette require that we ask. I have found that whenever I start my day or my practice with a ritual or offering, I always receive some answer, some tiny thread to follow and help me move.
This is the sort of wisdom you receive with my Creative Praxis reading, and more. We dive into your unique artist signature: how you work, create, ritualize, dream, connect best. Not only will we discuss your particular creative potentials, we will also dive into building a creative routine that matches your vastness, allows your distinct cycles. We will also pay attention to the significant Muse asteroids in your chart, which reveals more about your creative signature as well as points to which deities can be useful to form a relationship with.
Honor your pleasure. Your uniqueness. Your sacred creative relationship with the world.
My books are open for February.
Ascendant Assemblies this Sunday :)
February 5th is both the Leo Full Moon and the next Ascendant Assemblies group I will be facilitating with Leo risings :)
If you want to talk with a group of rad, Sun-governed beings, work through Saturn in your 7th, gab about Venus in Pisces, or relate to other Leo ascendants about being royalty, then do not miss!
These are meant to be informal, fluid and flexible. You can participate up to your comfort level, so you can just listen if you prefer!
Sign up for Ascendant Assemblies and join us for Sunday here :)
And for other rising signs, there are other meetings scheduled for this February as well.
And finally, a recommendation. I have been following the Moon Lists for years, a creative project that, according to their website “[makes] workbooks, ask questions, share prompts, and create tools to inspire different ways of thinking”. I have long been inspired by the prompts which help me look more deeply and vividly at my life.
Here are some from the latest questionnaire:
1. Dislike versus Disinterest
Bad Bunny, sardines, slow-burn horror films: what’s something in the zeitgeist you flat-out don’t like…but you’re not writing off as unimportant?
2. A Writer’s Writer
Contrarily, what have you been loving recently because it feels tailor made for you?
3. Minor Characters
There used to be a guy I’d see at the Austin Whole Foods, always sitting alone in the cafe section and pounding comically large amounts of raw fruit: a dozen bananas, a whole watermelon, biting into mangos like apples, skin and all. We invented an entire narrative world around Mango Man. Cite a stranger or acquaintance whose life you’ve fictionalized.
Read the whole thing and subscribe here.
Until next week,
Chloe
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Juan Eduard Cirliot, Dictionary of Symbols, p. 196
ibid, p.196
Gaston Bachelard, “Earth and Reveries of Repose,” p. 13
Corita Kent, “Learning by Heart,” p. 34
Love this! Just reread it and am still very much in a cave 🖤 Thank you for the guidance of creativity emerging from within limits. What gorgeous limits, small spaces, and hazy details can I explore today?