Howling Wind
Creative Destruction and Protecting Energy for Dreams and New Ideas
Ideas often visit in the night in the form of dreams. Some pass through and move on before I wake, while others persist into the waking dream of the day. They’re sticky. These sticky ideas take hold, or I take hold of them, and a courtship begins. When I first notice the idea, it’s not clear. It’s more feeling than form. The idea expands and contracts, spilling over and forming shapes and alliances with other dreams and ideas. The snippets of my imagination start to form a constellation around the idea, and a reorientation begins. I’m not doing anything; just allowing the idea to take more space and not convincing myself that it’s impossible or meaningless.
As I open up to new realities and possibilities, the constellation begins to feel like a puzzle that’s missing most of the pieces. Once I see the puzzle, strange things start to happen. By strange, I mean I start to attract puzzle pieces. The idea makes contact with my waking world and people reach out to me to tell me, “I have a piece of the puzzle. May I show it to you?”
I don’t have to work on the puzzle, but when puzzle pieces begin to appear in my life in the form of people, tools, and other ideas, I know the idea and I are connected and I have a role to play in shepherding the idea into form. I’ve learned over the years to love the puzzle and marvel in its unformed beauty.
David Lynch was an uncompromising steward of ideas. He knew to follow his instincts when an idea chose him and he took ownership and responsibility of the work required to manifest the idea into form. His years of training in meditation and Buddhist philosophy gave him access to a depth of awareness that supported and nurtured the ideas in his charge. He knew it was his job to serve the idea. With each of his daily morning and evening 20-minute meditation sessions, he reset and connected with the “vast ocean of pure, vibrant consciousness.” He took nonduality seriously and worked every day to keep his ego at bay so his ideas could find space to grow.
There’s an idea gathering strength in me now. It takes attention and effort to bring people together to work on various aspects, gather the tools and techniques of manifestation, attract a community of resources and support, and develop a common language. It’s hard enough to wake up each day and get older - I don’t have energy to waste. The idea must overcome the entropy of conventional and mundane thinking to escape classical limits.
It’s a waste of energy to observe the idea at this early phase of formation and the observation will change the idea’s nature. Quantum physics is confirming what the Buddhists have known since ancient times. I must acknowledge quantum entanglement and the limiting nature of conventional logic when it comes to the energy that’s seeking to break free.
Navigating the polarity of creativity and structure has taught me a lot about the energetic requirements of nurturing a new idea. Allowing my mind to be chaotic and disordered, then harvesting the resultant energy into structure and form helps the idea move forward and take shape. Soon, it’s clear enough for others to see. Then, the idea can be observed from different perspectives.
The principles of quantum physics play a role in my daily life. The role of decoherence in quantum systems might explain why maintaining truly novel thoughts requires constant energy input. Just as quantum states tend to decohere through interaction with their environment, new ideas tend to collapse back toward conventional thinking unless actively maintained against the entropy of habit and conventional wisdom. That’s real.
The threat is real. I feel the pull of many distractions that grasp feverishly for my attention. News, insecurity, aches and pains, responsibilities, money, blood tests, chicken wings, misinterpreted words, shame and unresolved afflictions, other ideas, rain, the phone, the correct amount of caffeine. There have been times when I’ve been too tired to nurture a new idea. I didn’t have energy or space.
In November, powerful winds swept through my mountain town, felling giant trees and knocking out the power for days. I drove home in the dark, through the blackout and over trees lying across the road, listening to the wind howl through the valley like it was searching for someone.
The morning light revealed the wind’s power. Hundreds of trees had fallen onto roofs, across roads, and onto other trees. Neighbors stood on the street surveying the damage and calling their insurance companies. Thousands of years of growth recycled back into the ground. Fertile soil. I felt hollowed out, like the wind had blown through my nervous system and cleared a clean path to my senses. A reset.
I’m quieter now, able to listen for the entanglements that transcend space and time. Before I sleep each night, I remind myself to pay attention and to remember my dreams. In the morning, I often remember scenes and feelings and from time to time a new piece of the puzzle slides into place. The dream is playfully forming.