When baby birds are a certain age, their mother shoves them out of the nest. In the Bible, after God created the universe and the life that inhabits it, He rested and let it be. Creation follows this pattern: investment and resignation.
In every art discipline, there is a point where the artist needs to separate herself from the piece; to resign and take a break. After hours, days, and perhaps years of devotion to a project, the creator has given everything to their work and there is nothing left to give. Most novelists, musicians, and videographers reach a point in their projects where they are finished. Despite these efforts, they may still feel that the work is incomplete. They notice microscopic errors at a macroscopic level. But the project needs to be done. Countless hours and years may be drained from the artist if they continue with their piece—changing their minds and nitpicking at their work until nothing remains. Artists who don’t heed and press past the point of completion are unhealthy, both for themselves and their creation.
When a creator clings to her work, she betrays herself. She found joy in the conception, but then devoted herself with the burden of construction—sacrificing great time and energy to bring her work to life. When she has given all that she has to give, it is time for her project to move on. To cling onto it will stifle its growth—the blanket that kept it warm becoming a cage to suffocate it. Holding on will make waste of the efforts she has invested. The clingy artists is both the creator and destructor. To avoid the latter, one must resign.
But letting go is bittersweet. It is difficult to resign from one’s passion—the pit in which the artist has poured her heart. But it is necessary, and in letting go, a certain feeling rises. The French call it “une douce resignation.” Sweet resignation.
After one’s heart is poured out, there is nothing left to give. Although this draining may appear to leave one empty, the feeling that remains is anything but. It is a sweet feeling; a satisfaction in completion and accomplishment. Everything in your power has been done, and what follows is out of your control. Your ship, decades in the making, needs to be tested on the waters. It may float, or it may sink. But either outcome is better than keeping it on the shore and wondering what could have been. In resignation is relief.
Shove your birds out of the nest and take a rest. I’m sure they’ll fly.
