Two kinds of creation.

I constantly see things I didn’t see before.

Like looking at a work of art that has been thoroughly cleaned, or watching it from a fresh perspective, or with a new appreciation.

I guess it has always been that way, at least this possibility to see old stuff in a new light, but I wasn’t really aware of it.

It was there, but I couldn’t be bothered.

Cause that is the cool and fascinating thing: we can dismiss our natural, healthy, helpful inclinations.

We have the ability to be stubborn and intellectual and cocky, and ignore the subtle itching that says we’re going in the wrong direction.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.’

Like we know better than the universe itself.

So that’s what we do, over and over and over again, until we start to get a feel for this inner direction, this loving, unobtrusive guidance.

Until we start living insightfully.

Yesterday I saw something new about creation, or rather: an old realization in a different, more powerful light.

It dawned on me that there are two kinds of creation, and that I had stopped doing both of them because I wasn’t truly aware of the distinction.

You see, you can create because you think it will get or give you something or somewhere, or you can create because you just have to.

You can create out of lack, or you create out of overflowing abundancy and playfulness.

The first one is a fearful producing; it’s not bad or wrong, just less interesting and touching.

The second one is an act of uncompromising spontaneity.

Pure creation is like God (or the Universal Intelligence of your personal liking) picking up a crayon and starting to doodle.

And you are the crayon.

Or the paintbrush.

Or the keyboard.

Or the violin.

Or the foot that caresses the ball on the soccer pitch.

Or the hands that arrange the flowers.

Or the eyes and the mouth and the soft voice in a conversation.

There’s nothing like being used by the pure universal intelligence, because creation is the purest form of life.

It IS life.

Creating things out of love and joy means playing with primal energy, being touched by that energy, getting nurtured by it ánd being the first person to see what it has generated out of nothing.

It means forgetting who you are, to rediscover what you’re made of.

I totally forgot about the sheer joy of creation for creation’s sake.

And yesterday, I remembered.

Hang in there.

Hang in there.



Helemaal oké.

Helemaal oké.