Synchronicity and Composition

(Mike Foster is a grant writer and fund-raiser.)

“Synchronicity reveals the meaningful connections between the subjective and the objective world” (Dr. Carl Jung).

Connection. The conscious and subconscious mind is in a perpetual state of seeking synchronicity. So often, we are quite disconnected from the guiding force of our inner psyche. Our reality tells us to discard the superfluous, the extreme, and the risk of creative endeavors. We sacrifice our sense of “balance” to meet the demands of others. 

I have found greater connections between my inner self and my “critical parent” through music, writing, and yoga. The process, the journey to synchronicity, requires discipline. This journey will not happen quickly. I tend to be one for instant gratification. This poses a threat to my inner quest for connection. Often, I become frustrated if the words I write do not evoke the meaning I long to express, or I put the guitar down after struggling with a new chord. With each tantrum I allow myself, I fall further away from inner balance and creativity. 

As I learn and continue to seek out avenues to get in touch with my “artist,” I find that when I work past this critical voice inside me, this self-deprecating critic that tells me to tear up the sheet of paper I have written on, or to put the guitar back in the case because I play terribly, I realize that I enter a new territory in me. In this territory, I sense greater calm and confidence. The importance of my writing and playing is not graded by its content, but by just doing the act itself, the process, not the product.

Inner balance, serenity, self-awareness imply synchronicity. I believe no one ever truly achieves continual synchronicity. However, when one actively seeks its fulfilling power, the moments of success are catalysts to the pursuit. 

I have thrown away countless pieces of writing. I have thrown out a half completed painting because it was not what I perceived as “acceptable.”

Looking back at those moments of self-doubt and frustration, I wish I could have stopped and appreciated the process and that improvement would come, that words could flow more freely, that my painted sky could actually resemble the real sky.

Life is a journey. We travel our road in ever changing speed and steadiness. At times we weave back and forth on this highway, unsure of our direction and our destination. Other moments we race down the road towards a goal, a dream, a fix, only to miss the splendor of the beauty along the way, or to find ourselves falling face down from a lack of balance.

Patience and faith are intangible arsenals to finding our way to creativity, to maturity, to discovering the talents we possess. 

How is the soul similar to a snowflake? The soul is a mystery. There are many times that I feel but one of the masses, a pawn in the great game of life and society’s boundaries. It is a feeling of “sameness,” a despairing sense of conformity. One need only look around a busy office; the cubicles, the white shirts and ties, the rushed pace that is mandated by the administrators in their plush offices. “Do not be different!” “Be a team player!”

As I grow older and questionably wiser, I have become more aware of the intricate and unique nature of us all. As a snowflake, each different and beautiful, the soul of man is like the infinite span of stars in the night’s sky, each a mystery and a wonder. 

I realize my uniqueness through my art and through my ability to love my fellow man. We are truly all points of light in a world of shadows. We must encourage and appreciate the uniqueness in all of us. 

In what way is my life my art? This is a difficult question. I find myself thinking more about ways my life is not art. This is my self-doubt invading again. So, I will consider, ponder, and seek an answer to this question.

My life, my waking existence upon this great floating rock, creates an impression upon the very fabric of things. Whether it be my interaction with others and the effect my perceptions and ideas have, there is a cascading reaction that propels across so many.

This reaction of thought and action is not because I possess any extraordinary wisdom, or great talents of manipulation, but it is because I am here, I am alive and walking amongst humanity. 

My life reflects art in many ways. The sensitivity shown to a depressed friend, the efforts to help my spouse with the daily chores, the compassion I bestow the sick. These things create smiles, laughter, appreciation, and even more state that I am alive.

What greater art is there than love? What is more beautiful than a smile? Writing and playing music, or painting a sunset on an empty canvas do speak of my artistic abilities. This part of my life is a self-indulgent thing at times. I do it for pleasure, for inner serenity. By seeking to create art through compassion and empathy, or creating art through the pen or the brush, I do find that my life is my art.