A crucial component to creativity is intuition. A spark of an idea. An image. A thought. A single word. The tingle in the bottom of the stomach. Intuition is the driving force of creative action. It is the lust for creative beauty that opens one to things that cannot be seen, heard, felt. It is the big bang of creative conception as ideas cross-pollinate within the artistic soul.
I long to grasp hold of intuition, to define it, to make it tangible and real. I want it to be right, safe, and never deceiving. Instead I question my intuition. Is it right? Is it wrong? I procrastinate. I wait. I am bitter as my creativity dies a whimpered death; an after-thought between my posts on social media. “Love me,” I say to the world. “Don’t forget about me,” whispers my soul.
What will become of the expression that longs to cross the boundaries of my dry and broken heart? Will intuition leave me for a more faithful lover?