Creating Your Body Of Work: Embracing Vertical Time

This work is for anyone who wished to enter the realm of the Conscious Creator - and go deep into the well of "All That Is" and make their work impactful and universal.

Creativity is a river that runs through our lives, sometimes rushing, sometimes meandering, but always present. It's not confined to the moments we sit down to write, paint, or perform—it's woven into the fabric of our existence.

Let's dig into this and explore the idea of having breathtaking clarity, inviting us to define and redefine our "body of work." How? By stepping into the timeless flow of vertical time. This isn't just about finishing projects; it's about living creatively, deeply, and consciously. Let's dive into how this perspective illuminates our creative lives' fleeting sparks and enduring currents.

Your Body of Work: A Living, Breathing Tapestry

Picture a painter's portfolio or a writer's shelf of novels. That's a body of work, right? Sure—but it's only part of the story. What if your *life* is the canvas? Every brushstroke counts: the way you arrange your living room, the laughter shared over a spontaneous road trip, the unfinished poem crumpled in a drawer. These aren't side notes to your creativity—they're the heartbeat.

Your body of work isn't just the polished pieces you show the world. It's the roles you've embodied, the relationships you've nurtured, the dreams you've chased (even the ones that slipped away). It's the quiet moments of reflection and the loud, messy failures that taught you more than success ever could. Short-term bursts—like a sudden inspiration for a scene or a melody—feed into the long-term arc of who you're becoming. Zooming out, you'll spot the threads: recurring themes, unspoken questions, and a signature uniquely yours.

The Roots Beneath the Bloom

Creativity doesn't spring from nowhere. Is "that" project tugging at your soul today? It's not random. It's a flower blooming from roots that stretch deep—sometimes years, sometimes generations, into the past. Maybe the story you're writing echoes your mother's unspoken ambitions. Perhaps the film you're directing carries your grandfather's resilience or your culture's quiet ache. These aren't just ideas; they're inheritances.

Short-term creativity—like a burst of energy to sketch or brainstorm—often feels immediate, but it's tethered to something bigger. Ask yourself: *Why now? What's this really about?* The answers might surprise you. That quick doodle could be a seedling of a lifelong passion. That half-formed script might be wrestling with a question you've carried since childhood. Long-term creativity emerges when we honor these roots, letting them guide us deeper.

Vertical Time: Where Art Breathes

We're conditioned to see time as a straight line—horizontal, predictable, marching from start to finish. You begin a project, you push through, you wrap it up. Done. But creativity doesn't obey that rhythm. It thrives in *vertical time*—a space of depth, presence, and immersion.

Think of the last time you lost yourself in a film or a song. Time didn't just stop; it expanded. You weren't racing toward an end—you were *in it*, fully alive. That's vertical time: not a checklist, but a plunge into the moment. Horizontal time drives us forward with deadlines and goals; vertical time pulls us downward, into meaning and connection.

Short-term creativity sparkles here—a flash of insight, a sudden line of dialogue. But we build something enduring in the long-term dance with vertical time. It's the difference between skimming five blocks on a bike and digging five blocks deep into the earth. One's a breeze; the other's a feat of courage and craft.

The Beautiful Cost of Depth

Going deep isn't easy. It's not a casual stroll—it's an excavation. You're working against the gravity of distraction, doubt, and the urge to rush. But oh, the reward.