The Holy Compost of Creativity: Devotional Via Creativa
Invocation
Awe and Silence met and danced in the quiet place. Eyeless calm swept by chance into sacred space. Light shines over shadow, Night dark and narrow, inviting holy union inciting life to break free. In the shadow bright and the luminous gloom, the secret spark lights the way, a world to remake anew.
The Sacred Moment
Today, the first quarter moon cuts a bold curve through the night, a bright edge of becoming against the sky. May we feel the call to create, to explore, to dance with the holy spark that stirs within us. In the generative tension of the First Quarter Moon, we walk the path of the Via Creativa: the way of inspiration, of sacred imagination, of shaping what has never been before. Our souls reach not for certainty, but for expression: for the joy of making, of playing, of sketching the unseen into form.
This is a moon to imagine, to risk, to begin.
Theme: The Union of Shadow and Light
Matthew Fox often reminds us that the via creativa is born from the erotic union of the via positiva and the via negativa. What that means in practice is that our awe, delight, and hospitality, and our grief, loss, pain, and letting go, come together to fuel and spark this amazing transformation, this amazing ability that we have that we call creativity.
Too many of us take creativity for granted and think that it's just a talent somebody has. And yes, you can be talented at painting or cooking or drawing or music. But being talented at playing an instrument is not the same as being creative. Creativity is a forge deep down within us that takes little bits of this and that and the other, little things that we've collected over the years, sometimes intentionally and often not, and mixes and matches it together until something else rises out of it.
It's not a very appealing image, but in a lot of ways, creativity is almost a compost heap. It's a place where all the little bits and bobs get thrown and they just of mix and merge together and little thought worms crawl through it and digest it all until the soil is ready for something new to grow from it. Taking all of those little nutrients and nifty ideas and mixing them together into something new, interesting, or at least fun.
Too many of us take our creativity for granted and think that we either have to be all about the path of awe, bliss, and wonder in order to enter creativity or even worse our society just assumes that we're all tortured artists lost in the path of grief, sorrow, and pain. The truth is: it's not one or the other. It's a mixture of both:
A little bit of awe, meeting a little bit of letting go.
A little bit of delight with a touch of pain.
A little bit of hospitality with a pang of loneliness or loss.
It's in that sweet, nostalgic, melancholic center that most of us actually find our creative urge. That place that makes us want to write, to draw, to paint, to sing, to dance. That place where the feelings are all spinning and twirling around each other, where they're mixing just right, and the ground is just fertile enough for us to grow.
And so as we're celebrating this first quarter moon dedicated to the Via Creativa, I think we need to start by honoring the good and the bad. The things that have amazed us and those that have torn us down. Because through that, our creativity is born. It's in the space that emerges when they're mixed together just right.
Now when I say that, I know some of you are gonna start thinking about a recipe. So what percentage of delight to what percentage of despair? And that's not how any of this works. We encounter awe, delight, and hospitality. We encounter and experience pain, grief, and loss. We often don't get to choose either. If we're lucky we get to plan maybe a vacation or a trip or some kind of event that lets us have hospitality, awe, wonder. Maybe we get to have our favorite meal and experience that deep savoring, it brings so much joy. But usually, the via positiva and the via negativa are things that we just experience. They're the more passive of the four paths.
Creativity demands action. We don't always take it. We often just push it aside and pretend it isn't there, but it's nagging at us all the same. It's pushing us forward, telling us to:
do something,
make something,
create something,
be something.
And with everything going on in the world right now, I think we'd all be a little bit better off if we took a little bit of time and listened to that voice.
Practice
Let’s begin by settling in. Find a comfortable place where you feel safe, somewhere the light is soft, the distractions few, and the energy feels open. Let your body soften into place. Close your eyes if it helps. Place one hand over your heart, and the other over your belly. Breathe deeply. With each breath, invite the sacred in.
As you inhale, say silently, “I welcome the light.”
As you exhale, “I welcome the shadow.”
Do this a few times, just enough to feel your body respond. We are not here to choose one or the other. We are here for both. We are here for the union of the awe that lifted us and the sorrow that cracked us open. That union is unpredictable, erotic, messy, generative, and is the heart of the Via Creativa.
Picture two energies weaving through you. One rises on your left, golden and warm: the Via Positiva. This is the thread of delight, of wonder, of hospitality, of the breath-catching joy that reminds us the world is worth loving. On your right, feel the indigo thread of the Via Negativa rising: sorrow, grief, the ache of letting go, the hush of unknowing. See them twirl together, not as opposites, but as dance partners. Not as rivals, but as lovers.
The place they meet is the place we call creativity.
Creativity, real creativity, asks something different of us. It asks us to act. To respond. To stir the pot, tend the fire, plant the seed. It is not passive. It is not just feeling. It’s what we do with the feelings.
Turn your attention to the source of those thread: the “composted” memories, experiences, and feeling of your life. We don’t always know what’s composting down in the depths of us. We just know that something’s working, turning, transforming.
Sit with your inner compost heap. Yes, it’s an odd image, but let it be. That is where creativity lives, in the layers of joy and pain, memory and longing, failure and spark. Let images rise: things that amazed you lately, things that left a bruise, memories you haven’t fully unpacked. Let them come, no judgment. Let them pile in. This is the sacred heap. The raw material. The holy mess.
Maybe grab a journal or sketchbook if it helps. Jot down a phrase, a picture, a feeling. Don’t try to make it pretty. Let it be what it is. Worms and all.
And when you feel ready, bring your awareness to your core, to that sacred center just behind your belly. Imagine a small ember glowing there. Not a fire. A seed. It’s just a spark. A living ember, pulsing with quiet life. That’s the forge. That’s where creativity waits.
Whisper to yourself, “I am already creating. I am already enough. I carry joy and grief together. I will make something of it.”
Now, before you close this practice, ask: What wants to be made today? Not what should I do, not what does the world want from me, but what is stirring. What’s growing from this sacred compost?
It might be a poem. It might be a song. A dance. A loaf of bread. A phone call. A smile. A single sentence in a dusty notebook. Whatever it is, name it. Do it. Even if only for a few minutes. Honor the spark.
If you’re doing this on the First Quarter Moon, you might want to light a candle now and say:
“In the waxing light, I grow. In the tension, I rise. In this fertile moment, I create.”
Let that light be your reminder. The Via Creativa isn’t neat. It isn’t tidy. But it is holy. And it is yours.
Closing Blessing
Holy Flame who dwells in the heart of joy and sorrow,
You who kindle stars from darkness and draw songs from silence,
Bless this fertile ground within me.
I offer you my awe and my ache,
my delight and my letting go.
Take them into your forge.
Meld them. Temper them.
And shape from them something true.
May I honor the sacred compost of my life,
trusting that nothing is wasted,
and that every thread, bright or broken,
belongs in the tapestry of becoming.
Grant me the courage to create,
not for praise or perfection,
but as an act of devotion,
as a sign of life still moving in me.
So be it.
So may it grow.
Mar a mbeidh.