CREATION ANEW 

Written by P.L.Reed-Wallinger

There’s only one at first, but there’s always more.  In the beginning, they come at night, invading my sleep and making sure I know who they are—what they want.  It isn’t long until they’ve taken over my world.  They slip into my day, filling my head and demanding my attention.

So alive!  So real!  I see their faces—watch their eyes.  I note every gesture; study the expressions on increasingly familiar countenances.  Much like a video playing in my head, their story unfolds— I can’t wrench myself away!  I watch them laugh and cry, love and struggle.  I learn of their strengths and weaknesses, their feelings and thoughts. I immerse myself in them—live and breathe them.  They become a part of me—flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, growing inside my skull, anxious for legitimate existence, and their first breath of life.

Suddenly it’s there!  The incredible drive, the all-consuming compulsion!  The words thrash inside my head like roiling, churning water.  They crash in wild recklessness toward release—toward the moment they can leave the confining banks of the mind that nurtured them, and leap out—dancing through the air in fierce, excited, breathtaking abandon.  Cascading with brilliant, vibrant life onto the screen of my computer—full of color and depth and vitality.

Existence outside their world ceases to exist.  I’m consumed—driven!  Nothing else has meaning.  I have to write!  I feel soaring elation in the moments when the words tumble over themselves in their eagerness to find life, and desperate agitation when they damn up, refusing my efforts to dislodge them before they’re ready.

Every moment becomes an emotional struggle, step-by-step, hour-by-hour, day-by-day.  Write!  Sleep is elusive, food turns oddly tasteless, and relationships are meaningless.  Write!  There is no peace.  Write!  No escape.  Write!  They won’t let me rest until I’ve penned their words, captured the essence of their lives into the sentences, that will fan themselves across the pages rolling out of the computer before me.

And then it’s over!  No more struggle.  No more anguish.  The lives that found their existence in my mind are real and whole.  Born at last into a world that will come to know them as the inimitable, striking creatures they are.  What an incredible feeling of elation and accomplishment, yet the euphoria is tinged with weariness and relief.  Wrenched from somewhere deep in my gut, a sigh tumbles forth, and I wearily seek out my bed.  I could sleep for hours—days—years!

The throes of creation have given birth to something that amazes me---did I really do that?  How could I create something so unique, so perfect, and so beautiful?  The answer is simple, I didn’t!  God’s hand is clearly visible in the shadows of this work, and I am only the vassal.  My role in this is manifest, and I am ecstatic and humbled at one-and-the-same time.  The weariness lifts, and my soul fills with joy, peace, and contentment. 

What a beautiful thing, creation!