Seasons come. Seasons go. The more that pass, the more we get to glimpse their familiar cycles. Warm to cold, wind to sunshine to rain, seasons alternate in recognizable patterns.
Whether in weather, or in other replicating swirls of being, observing the rhythms of cycles can aid our ability to follow life’s music. If the cadence becomes familiar enough, we may learn to dance to it more gracefully.
Creativity also flows in cycles. The muse may fly off somewhere lush during our drought, leaving the riverbed of our imagination dry. Then suddenly, when the rains come around more regularly, she is back, humming new songs in our ear, sowing seeds for the spring, as if she were never away.
At times, I have experienced dry spells, when thoughts would not yield satisfactory inspiration, no matter how hard I might squeeze. I’ve usually had the good sense to understand that it’s part of the cycle, and that I just needed to wait for the more abundant flow to run again.
Recently, the birds have reminded me, that it is my responsibility to plan ahead for dry days. As there is benefit in learning to cache nuts and acorns, there may also be wisdom in learning to cache ideas.
Now, after a few storms, I am blessed with more ideas than I can take action on in any given week or month. I wonder how and where to store this newfound inspiration.
I watch a western scrub jay perch upon my fingertips, pick up a peanut, shake it, place it back in the palm of my hand, and select another, then fly off to cache it under a select leaf and twig. It isn’t always the largest nut which is chosen, but often one with a special rattle, or solid bright shell.
Which ideas should I select? Where should I store them? Should I stuff a sock full with them, so that I can reach in randomly when I am hungry for an idea? Should I place some under pillows, or in cabinets, so that I can be surprised with delight when stumbling upon a forgotten idea, months or years after hiding it?