The Deep Death

Most people value the space between birth and death; it's called life.   It's pretty easy to love.

But not everyone values the space between death and life; the deep rest between destruction and creation.

It can sound scary and dark to stretch death beyond an instantaneous event into a stanza of collapse; of inaction; of utter emptiness.  Of not yet.  I admit that sometimes experiencing the empty space between creative bouts can evoke a sense of being buried alive. 

But doesn't need to be so dramatic; not at all.  Sometimes the deep death occurs in just a pause; in a gentle separation; in a simple choosing of one thing over another.  It can be experienced more like an exhale than like laying waste to a village.  But that brevity doesn't make the death any less substantial--or important. 

I call it the deep death because it doesn't take long to hit it--but the affects are profound.  It can happen as quickly as pulling apart for a breath in the middle of kissing (oh, relish the death of separation!), or take as long as that month you put away your manuscript in order to "gain perspective" on it.  (What a clean way to say "die".)

As writers and artists, it is terrifying yet crucial to honor the rest time between death and life--between when our juices stop flowing and when they start up again.  Everyone has their own favorite flavor of fear around honoring this emptiness:  I'll get lost in there forever, my creativity will dry up if I don't keep the vein open, I have deadlines and bills to pay...

My experience is that honoring the rest after death cultivates fertility, just like the rotting of dead plants feeds the next cycle of growth.  When I let myself go fully into that chaotic, empty place of rest--no matter for how long--I emerge with new awareness and fresh energy.  I don't always get to know when I come out; but I trust that life follows death as inevitably as death follows life.

As a creative being, avoiding the reality of emptiness and inaction is like putting yourself on life support and being unwilling to pull the plug.  It's like refusing to go to sleep and then expecting brilliant performances day after day.

Let one moment die so the next can be fully reborn as something your former self couldn't have even  conceived.  Pull the plug, my pretties, and go for the ride.  And don't worry;  you'll be back.