The contagion of creativity
Have you seen photos of people living underground in Paris or Vegas or some elsewhere?
What is striking is the degree to which people make it a home — not only are the utilitarian items there, so are the nonsensical and the meaningful.
Art will have found its way there — it could be magazine photos tacked up; it might be a mannequin, festooned with feathers.
Spiritualized objects too will have made their way there, crosses, circles, aphorisms, amulets, stones, gems, texts, a plastic Jesus, even items that one might never suspect to be highly charged spiritually except to those who live there, stones for instance.
Stones are quite spiritualized for me. By me. I find one that speaks to me and take it with me. By handling it when I’m meditating, or thinking, or uncertain and seeking answers, I spiritualize the stone, I transfer psychic soul energy to it.
Stones — and shells — do it for me. It is the same with others everywhere. They find their spirit object.
There is a contagion effect to creative living. If not for this effect we might all be living in dull hobbit holes of dreariness. Even in the most impoverished of areas there is adornment of body and shelter.
The contagion of creative living spreads like every other spreadable thing, through contact.
It started with tools and will end somewhere out amongst the stars when the last one dies . . . and maybe not even then. Humanity will have become gods by then, able to forge its own suns and moons from the smithy of its genius.