The Obsession Canvas

Embracing Creativity as a Daily Practice for Sustaining Sanity

I devote countless hours to the singular obsession that dominates my musical journey—it's a one-person show entirely orchestrated by my passion. This obsession permeates deep within me as I fine-tune it, trim it down, and craft yet another variation.

It has transformed into my very own Mr. Holland's Opus.

That is a way back kind of reference, huh?

It’s a complicated life project: a 60 minute musical monologue, with tempos, themes, connecting scenes, multiple characters, with a three act structure. 

It is not something I threw together. 

I have never worked harder at something in my life. 

I don’t get paid to do it. 

In fact, I lose money doing it.

And it continues to teach me patience, faith, and courage.  

I'm trying to create something new, but I'm not exactly sure what it is yet. I believe it's a new form of expression. For now, all I can do is work on it bit by bit, hoping that the pieces will eventually fit together. It's a process, and I need to be patient as it unfolds.

As I embark on this 100-day writing challenge, I've found myself revisiting Dani Shapiro's Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life. Her book has become both a compass and a beacon, illuminating the path as I delve into the complexities and delights of my writing journey.

Shapiro shares, “What I do know—what I’ve spent the past couple of decades learning about myself—is that if I’m not writing, I’m not well. If I’m not writing, the world around me slowly loses its vibrancy. My senses grow dull. I find myself irritable with my husband, impatient with my child, and fixated on minor flaws in my home (the crack in the ceiling, the fingerprints on the staircase wall) rather than appreciating the beauty outside my window—the fiery maple tree, the family of geese crossing our driveway. If I’m not writing, my heart doesn’t soar; it hardens.”

This reflection brought me to a powerful realization: the only validation I need to pursue this project is the profound sense of well-being writing instills in me. It enriches my life, providing my mind with a relentless, yet rewarding challenge.

Obsessing over craft is the goal. 

Mastery over craft is the goal.

Instead of being consumed by endless worries—be it mundane concerns like dry cleaning and deciding on dinner, or profound fears about death, wars, political turmoil, and climate change—focusing on a creative project shifts these anxieties to the back of my mind. It becomes my central concern, pushing other thoughts to the sidelines. 

Of course, those worries will resurface, but for a moment, they're out of focus.

I tend to look for the gold at the end of the rainbow rather than enjoying the fun in getting to the gold. 

Creative work, turns out, is a bit like giving my puppy an extra chewy bone so that she can relax her spastic puppy energy. 

It calms her nervous system. 

In this analogy my mind is the puppy dog (in case I lost you.)

So I move closer towards cracking the code: my mind and body feeling relief as I craft something new. 

This seems obvious, I know, but I’m not sure I really understood that in my bones until now.