Last night I had a dream.
Ok, not a visionary dream that will change the world, but one that helped me better understand the art process (or my art process, at least).
In the dream, I was on a massive mountain trying to reach the top and get to the other side. I was walking with all my senses on full alert mode because this mountain was crazy high, and a misstep could have been dangerous (read: deadly).
At some point, I reached a difficult and scary passage where I was supposed to squeeze through an extremely narrow rock with hundreds of meters of void just below.
Nope!
After thinking it over (and over), trying to weigh all the options, I decided to give up and look for an alternative route. It was a wise choice because the new path I chose was much longer but reasonably safer and smoother.
While I was walking on this alternative path, I discovered a small cave entrance and was amazed by its beauty. Millennial mineral formations struck me with their intricacy until I realized that just behind a big rock formation, there was a small pond of crystal-clear water.
Jackpot!
Once I had drunk enough and filled my canteen, I decided it was too late to keep climbing and that I should stay in the cave for the night.
So there I was, enjoying a nice meal, comforted by a warm fire I somehow managed to light in the middle of the cave (in dreams, lighting a fire is easy, and you have infinite wood sticks to burn).
It was one of the best parts of the dream. I could feel the warmth of the fire and the beautiful sensation of being safe and relaxed.
But here’s the kicker—I could only enjoy the beautiful experience of the cave because of that dangerous passage I decided to avoid. Without that obstacle, I would’ve kept going and never discovered the cave.
And after a long, restful sleep (yes, in the dream), I was finally able to get back on track and reach the top of the mountain.
The sight? Breathtaking.
Mountains and valleys surrounded me in a mix of colors. I had reached the top and enjoyed the incredible views, even though I had to change my original plan.
Sure, I walked many more hours with the risk of being caught by nightfall, but I found a different way that let me discover the cave.
Accepting that I couldn’t take the first path wasn’t easy (not because it felt like admitting defeat, but because the planned path was shorter, and you could almost see the top from there).
But here’s the thing—I still reached the top. I still saw the view. And maybe, even more importantly, I discovered something unexpected and beautiful along the way.
That so-called “defeat” didn’t stop me from getting where I wanted to go. If anything, it made the journey richer, filled with surprises I wouldn’t have had if everything had gone according to plan.
And isn’t that just like the creative process?
In art (and let’s face it, in life), things don’t always go as planned. You start with an idea, a vision of what you want to create.
Then, boom.
Mistakes happen. Obstacles pop up. Suddenly, you’re standing there, staring at a mess, thinking, “Now what?” Do you keep pushing through? (Risking everything?) Or do you adjust, adapt, and take a different route?
Here’s the thing: that’s not a sign of failure. It’s part of the process.
Sometimes the painting takes a turn you didn’t expect. Or the poem starts to write itself. Or the sculpture? Yeah, it carves itself into something totally different from what you planned.
But that’s where the magic happens. Those unexpected twists? They’re the essence of creativity. It’s not about having total control (spoiler: you don’t). It’s about rolling with the surprises along the way.
And you know what? I’ve been thinking—maybe life is just like the creative process.
What if, when our plans fail (and they do), it’s not a sign of impending doom? What if it’s an opportunity for something unexpected (and dare I say it—better)?
Maybe accepting that we can’t always follow our original path is key. Maybe it’s about trusting that even when things go sideways (and they will), they’re still leading us somewhere good. Somewhere beautiful.
Because, just like in art, life’s twists and turns might lead us to places we never imagined. Hidden caves, crystal-clear ponds, breathtaking views (who knew?). And maybe, just maybe, the journey will be all the richer for it.
So here’s to the detours, the changed plans, and the obstacles that force us to take a different path.
Here’s to the creativity that flows when we let go of the need for control (and the control itself) and just go with it.
Here’s to life—messy, unpredictable, and way more beautiful than anything we could plan.
And here’s to dreams and the messages from our inner selves that we often just brush off.