I have never quite had the nerve, if that's the word, the chutzpah I guess, to call myself a "creative" person. Not that I didn't want to be considered to be, but from the inside, I couldn't quite make that leap. The recent couple of articles I wrote, maybe three or four in the last few months, in which I expressed my struggle with keeping the writing mill grinding away, are windows into my psyche to be sure. The responses I received from my loyal readership were heartening and funny and basically what I would be saying to anyone else going through the same period, at least I think it's a "period", of self doubt and free floating angst.

One of the suggestions I got was that since I AM growing older, maybe I should write about "prostate" problems and such. Well, actually I have done that and since I'm not, yet, diagnosed with prostate cancer I thought I'd let that sit for awhile... so to speak. But hell, if it's "prostate" you want how about this; if you're up more than once or twice a night to pee, get some Terazosin (10 MG), it works for me and much better than the herbal stuff like Saw Palmetto, which I took for years with no discernable effect. As far as the dribble effect when it comes to ejaculation, 'fraid I have no solution for that. Just make do. And as far as diminished "interest", keep fantasy life alive is the best I can suggest.

So that's about it on "aging" unless I start into the whole thing about sagging, blotchy skin, memory defects, sore this and that, and I really don't want to waste time on that can of worms.

Oh, and the fears of dying any minute. And the realization that never again will I be in the running for the "10" over in the corner and... oh, never mind, it's all too horrible to explore.

The more time I take to think the more "junk" I encounter the guilt over that affair, the stupid remark that comes vividly into memory with all the attendant regret that followed the drunken and/or stoned behavior and all of these have "s's" attached of course. It wasn't the one stupendous stupidity, it's all the stupidities lined up to remind me of the messes I've made, the people I've hurt, the blunders, the... stop already!

I tell you, the paths that suddenly make themselves available for me to travel through good ol' memory lane upon and the side roads and the dead ends and the freeways into bad neighborhoods... oh my; it's a roadmap to hell.

And then there are the good days. Take yesterday for example, friend Marty called after reading one of my pieces and said; "Of course you're a creative person, look at the work you did in that "mud room" out front. That wasn't just carpentry, that was artistry."

Wow! Did that feel good. And I even allowed it in. And a week ago our neighbor to the north Christan said, "Your photography is really exquisite, it really is." Right out of the blue. I mean, I wasn't even passing it around.

And today, a couple of emails from John and Jack telling me that I've done some fine work in the writing department. They didn't use those words but that's what they meant. Another "Wow! for my insides.

OK, I'm a "creative person"! There I said it.

Actually, the thing I really do feel creative about is my life. Like the mocking bird, I've sewn it together out of a fragment there and a piece here and it has come out looking pretty good. Not bad at all as a matter of fact.

And now that I've received some commentary from a good friend who describes himself as a "creative engineer", one who takes a piece here and piece there and risks putting them together into a third thing that just might work even better than the original two, I begin to see that it really isn't the creativity that is the most important part of any of us anyway, it's authenticity!

Well, of course! I can take (create) really good pictures. Big deal! I can write a coherent paragraph. Whoopie! As a (really good and even published!) writer friend of mine has said, "It's all just finger waves in the sand anyway."

All right I've got it, or Eureka! Or; Of Course! The thing I have to "teach" (model) is nothing more than this; "This is scary, this being who I really am right here in front of you, but I'm doing it anyway because I want to assure you that it's worth doing. Yes, it can be done, comon'; Let's Dance!"

ps, Being "authentic" doesn't mean being a jerk just 'cause "I gotta be me!" ala Frank Sinatra. There has to be some compassion attached to that passion, some heart blended in with that courage, some wisdom to go along with that intelligence. This kind of person is best described by the Yiddish word, "mensch." Probably best translated as "a real human being." That's what I'm trying to create in myself.

Dick Prosapio ©2005, All Rights Reserved
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