BY LISA MARIE BASILE
How can we tap into our creative energies when we are managing chronic fatigue, chronic pain, inflammatory issues, brain fog, & the mental health issues that come from managing illness?
Let's talk about it.
I am a writer, poet, author, & editor who manages an inflammatory, degenerative immune-mediated disease called ankylosing spondylitis. I live with widespread pain, sometimes entirely-overwhelming brain fog + chronic fatigue, & limited mobility.
I do not resent my body, and I do not resent my art. They are one. But I didn’t always see it like that.
Rather, I now map out my days and priorities. It has definitely created tension (and opportunity!) in my creative life. So, here's what I've learned.
Lean into the uncertainty.
It is easier to create and ideate when you feel good. The moment the shift occurs and you find yourself in flare-up mode, you may mourn your 'old self,' wondering why you 'just can't' do as much or think clearly. Give yourself the gift of patience & compassion; accept that there will be hard days and better ones. You are allowed to modulate your creative priorities and downtime needs. It can be frustrating, but approaching art on a day-to-day basis is so freeing. You are not a failure if you don't stick to a routine. Like our lives, our art is a living, dynamic process.
Art is part of the body.
Our bones, blood, & tears exist alongside the immaterial — the energy we inhabit and exude. Art is a part of our body. Our imaginations are part of our physical selves. That is to say, when we are tired, our art is tired, too. If we can see our artistry as part of the whole, holistically linked to our overall well-being & safety, we can begin to repair the shame that comes from not being able to generate (as much) creativity when we feel sick. The romantic notion that art must exist no matter our suffering is too simple. Art is both outside of & within us.
Rest is an act of resistance.
There is nothing wrong with needing rest, especially when managing jobs, fatigue, depression, or physical issues. The dark forces at play will have you believe rest is lazy, that it lacks value, and that it isn't generative. And yet rest gives us space to daydream, to heal, to ideate, to learn about ourselves and the world, to work through wounds and limitations, and to quiet the space around us so that we may sense energy again — the energy of the world and, more importantly, our own. We cannot create well when we are constantly pushing ourselves. Rest. Resist the need to go go go.
Worship at the altar of your art.
Think of your art as some divine thing; for me, writing is channeled through some mysterious means. It moves through me and suddenly Is born, as a message translated or found drifting through outer space. When we are sick, we may found ourselves groping in the dark for the spark, for that divine inspiration. If we have rested, and if we are ready, we can call on it. I have always loved to set up an altar/writing space. Fill it with flowers, crystals, colors, and objects that inspire you, but make it accessible and cozy, and safe. Call on your muse out loud.
Embrace art as a healing tool.
Transmutation is the act of changing something into another form. If you feel stuck due to pain, lack of time alone, brain fog, or body-grief — transmute those feelings into something else using creative energy. Sometimes we have to use our creativity to heal ourselves, rather to make work for public consumption (like our books or blogs or art).
Rather than sitting down to 'work' think of your art as a way to look the shadow in the eye. To face it. Play with different mediums, too: Dance, paint, or make candles or arrange bouquets as a way to translate the pain and stagnancy. Make art for yourself. You will shift the energy — and kindle creativity.
Capitalize on your energy.
Seize the day, carpe diem. In any way that works for you. When you have a good day, it may mean choosing between seeing a friend, finishing the chores, emails, or creating art. If you can, take some time for art. If you can make an hour, make an hour.
The point isn't to finish your opus or to ignore your other to-dos, but to get yourself into a pattern of realizing when you have a good day and acting on that. Because art is often thought of as a hobby or a side-note, and not a genuine necessity of spirit. Like our bodies and spirits, our creative selves must be given time and space to bloom.
Music, cinema, & nature.
Just as you'd treat your body to good nutrition, movement, medicine, and sleep, you want to nourish your soul — with beauty, aesthetic, color, concept, nature, & emotion. When you are not writing or creating, feed your creativity. Think of the immaterial space that houses creativity within you as a sponge. It, too, is hungry. It is no waste of time to spend an afternoon lounging in the sunlight, listening to your favorite music, walking along the lake, or watching some beautiful masterpiece — especially while resting during a flare-up. Drink it in. Let it move through you — and see how it nourishes your garden.
Shadow work.
What are the voices of the world (and perhaps the within you) telling you — and are they causing flare-ups and overstimulation? Sometimes, when we are creating art within a system that values money, sales, popularity, and likes, our bodies shut down. All that cortisol wreaking havoc in the body. All that anxiety. It preys on our bodies, minds, and creative drive. Listen to your body. What — & where — are you feeling a lack of inspiration? How do these forces at play interfere with your chronic Illness (& your art)? Look deep into the shadow. Answers will come.
Think of everything you've already done!
It is so easy to think of everything that hasn't been done or tended to. Why can't get through this essay? Why can't I focus? How do I create when I'm in pain?
What have you accomplished, I ask? What have you dreamed up? What are you working on — little by little? How did you heal yourself so that you can begin to make space for creativity?
Notice the little things — and reward yourself for them. It is all a process.
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Lisa Marie Basile (she/her) is a poet, essayist, editor, and chronic illness awareness advocate living in New York City. She's the founder and creative director of Luna Luna Magazine and its online community, and the creator of Ritual Poetica, a curiosity project dedicated to exploring the intersection of writing, creativity, healing, & sacredness.
She is the author of THE MAGICAL WRITING GRIMOIRE, LIGHT MAGIC FOR DARK TIMES, and a few poetry collections, including the recent NYMPHOLEPSY, which is excerpted in Best American Experimental Writing 2020. Her essays and other work can be found in The New York Times, Narratively, Sabat Magazine, We Are Grimoire, Witch Craft Magazine, Refinery 29, Self, Healthline, Entropy, On Loan From The Cosmos, Chakrubs, Catapult, Bust, Bustle, and more. She is also a chronic illness advocate, keeping columns at several chronic illness patient websites. She earned a Masters's degree in Writing from The New School and studied literature and psychology as an undergraduate at Pace University. You can follow her at lisamariebasile.