Volcanoes And Emotional Rollercoasters
Journal Entry #1
19th November 2023
I’m looking out over Lake Toba as I write this entry, watching the boats and the birds cross the shimmering expanse. I’ve been staying on the shores of this lake for the past week and I’m reluctant to head east tomorrow morning. It’s one of those places that has held and left an impression on me. I feel almost strangely comfortable here, nurtured somehow. There’s an energy in the air that I can feel in my bones. Sitting at the water, encircled by a smoky green-blue wall that runs along the horizon, I’m sitting in the crater of an active volcano. 74,000 years ago this volcano erupted with such power that the magma chamber, deep in the earth below me, emptied. The ground collapsed into the empty void, leaving a deep, gaping hole in the surface of the earth. This hole, 100km long and 450m deep, gradually filled with water, becoming one of the deepest lakes on the planet.
The volcano at the bottom of the lake is still active, and could technically erupt at any minute, but above the surface, a mist spreads from the surrounding jungles, over the still waters and into my lungs. There is a transfixing harmony between chaos and serenity here. I like it. I guess I relate to it in some way.
When I haven’t been swimming in the lake, eating copious amounts of tempe and exploring, I’ve been writing. And perhaps that’s why the quiet privacy of a volcanic lake has been so comforting. I’m working through the delicate final stages of a project that is close to my heart. I've been working on this project, on and off, for the past two years while I’ve been tattooing in Europe. I’ve created a heartfelt resource. A guide which I hope will provide value to anyone who uses it and applies it in their life. I’m really proud of what I’ve created, but the journey has been far from smooth. It’s been more of a roller-coaster than a flat road.
When I haven’t been swimming in the lake, eating copious amounts of tempe and exploring, I’ve been writing. And perhaps that’s why the quiet privacy of a volcanic lake has been so comforting. I’m working through the delicate final stages of a project that is close to my heart. I've been working on this project, on and off, for the past two years while I’ve been tattooing in Europe. I’ve created a heartfelt resource. A guide which I hope will provide value to anyone who uses it and applies it in their life. I’m really proud of what I’ve created, but the journey has been far from smooth. It’s been more of a roller-coaster than a flat road.
I will share more about this project next week, but for now, I wanted to share a small insight into my creative journey. In this era of social media and highlight reels, I believe artists have a duty to share the messy reality behind their art. It’s too easy to hide behind refined beauty and brush aside the mess, chaos and uncertainty from which it emerged. We’re all bombarded with ideals, and it can make us question the value of our own experiences. So in the pursuit of fairness, honesty and compassion, I want to share some of the hidden journey.
By hiding the chaos of the creative process, not only do we tell a slightly misleading story, but I believe we also deprive people of the most valuable parts of the story. During the creative process, we explore and make peace with our shadows. As we navigate the vulnerability of expression, we learn to open up and hold space, for ourselves, and for others. In the stillness of the void, we learn to find comfort from within. The creative process, with all of its ups and downs, challenges and rewards, is a liberating personal journey. One component of this journey which I would like to share this week, is making peace with the ups and downs: learning to ride the emotional roller-coaster of creation.
Some days where the purpose is clear, the work flows effortlessly, I can feel myself gaining momentum, moving upwards at speed. Other days, sometimes the next day, momentum is lost. I’m neither up nor down, simply teetering on the edge. I've lost clarity of where I’m going and why. Everything feels kind of flat. In the stagnation, anxiety and it’s friend self-doubt arrive. In the eery silence, I start questioning myself, cringing at what I’ve done, until gradually I reach a turning point, and start to descend. Slowly at first, as I inch over the edge, it feels good to be moving again. But very quickly, I lose control. The speed picks up and I’m hurtling to the ground. My heart sinks to my stomach as I come crashing downwards. Throwing a tantrum the whole way down, I feel disdain for the journey I’m on. As I fall further, the frustration grows. It’s my fault that we’re falling, I say. My flaws that are bringing it all down. Spiralling, I start to dissociate and welcome the looming crash. I deserve this. As the world flies past, faster and faster, I abandon control. I let go.
After some time dwelling in this vacant, grumpy mood, I start noticing the tracks level out beneath me. As the carriage begins to slow, I can feel my emotions settle. Breathing deeper, it doesn’t all seem so catastrophic. If anything, I feel kind of embarrassed for being so dramatic. Moving along at a slow pace now, barely moving, I feel grateful for the fall. It took away the tension I was holding. It allowed me to let go. As I come to my senses, I remember what this journey means to me. After recovering from the fall, I feel it clearer than before. Slowly, the passion builds, and another ascent begins.
The relentless ups and downs of this roller-coaster describes the path that my creative journey typically follows. No matter what I create, or how much experience I have creating that thing, I face wave after wave of self-doubt, stagnation and frustration. Over the years I’ve become more familiar and accepting of this. It doesn’t necessarily make it easier, but before diving into a creative project I take time to prepare myself for the ups and downs that will follow. I see them as an inevitable and necessary, yet undeniably annoying (let’s be honest), part of the creative journey. Falling down and picking yourself back up, time and time again, is exhausting. But there’s value in the fall, wisdom to be found on the floor. I guess I’m sharing this with you to remind you that if you feel doubtful, confused and frustrated sometimes, you’re not alone. It might not seem so, but perhaps the people around you are simply on an up while you’re on a down, or their emotional roller-coasters are harder to see. Either way, I hope your journey is smooth, and I wish you all the best.
After some time dwelling in this vacant, grumpy mood, I start noticing the tracks level out beneath me. As the carriage begins to slow, I can feel my emotions settle. Breathing deeper, it doesn’t all seem so catastrophic. If anything, I feel kind of embarrassed for being so dramatic. Moving along at a slow pace now, barely moving, I feel grateful for the fall. It took away the tension I was holding. It allowed me to let go. As I come to my senses, I remember what this journey means to me. After recovering from the fall, I feel it clearer than before. Slowly, the passion builds, and another ascent begins.
The relentless ups and downs of this roller-coaster describes the path that my creative journey typically follows. No matter what I create, or how much experience I have creating that thing, I face wave after wave of self-doubt, stagnation and frustration. Over the years I’ve become more familiar and accepting of this. It doesn’t necessarily make it easier, but before diving into a creative project I take time to prepare myself for the ups and downs that will follow. I see them as an inevitable and necessary, yet undeniably annoying (let’s be honest), part of the creative journey. Falling down and picking yourself back up, time and time again, is exhausting. But there’s value in the fall, wisdom to be found on the floor. I guess I’m sharing this with you to remind you that if you feel doubtful, confused and frustrated sometimes, you’re not alone. It might not seem so, but perhaps the people around you are simply on an up while you’re on a down, or their emotional roller-coasters are harder to see. Either way, I hope your journey is smooth, and I wish you all the best.
As I look out over the lake, watching the green mountains turn blue, and the blue water turn pink with the setting sun, I reflect on the past. It seems impossible that this was once the epicentre of an eruption that caused so much destruction, wiping out vast numbers of plant and animal species and sending the entire planet into a volcanic winter for several years. And then I think of it the other way round. The calm beauty and lush green tropical landscape that surrounds me, would have been unimaginable 74,000 years ago. And then I think back to my little creative dilemmas. Not only can I see them with more perspective, a rather small problem compared to the implosion of the earth, but I look at them with acceptance. When things aren’t going well, sometimes it’s hard to see past the clouds of smoke. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but whatever you’re going through will pass. When the dust settles, and the pain subsides, the new world that you step into may just be worth the struggle.
May you be happy, may you be safe, may you be free.
George
May you be happy, may you be safe, may you be free.
George
