“Much of the best work I have ever written has never been published or produced. Faith tells me that there must be some reason for that that I cannot see” (Finding Water: The Art of Perseverance by Julia Cameron, p.106).
Sometimes you write for angels or the presences that seem to emanate from heaven. An invisible audience joyfully partaking in your work. You feel uplifted . . . appreciated.
In Celtic mythology, the Otherworld exists side by side with this world, though the Otherworld is invisible. The Otherworld of endless summer where the bright one sings and joy runs free. The lilac wind caresses your face, whispering in your ear,” Your writing sings here . . . grows wings here.” Your ancestors’ voices rise in devout expression, “Write for the glory of God. We take pleasure in your words . . . as does the Almighty.”
Even if you conceive of the Otherworld as the Jungian collective unconscious, it still is a living place deep inside of you. A wondrous and frightening place that gives birth to ancestral dreams . . . dreams of destiny. Were you born to write? Was your soul woven together with golden threads of song . . . words to be released during your lifetime?
Is writing for God, angels, the presences in heaven, the bright one, your ancestors, your soul—enough? Sometimes. When despair descends like an evil cloud sucking your energy for writing dry, you need help from any bright realm available. You need faith that a loving hand can reach out to you and offer you support—even through time.