The flux, the reflux, and the gates on the shore

You work on digital art. You work on it, or you take it as a hobby. No matter how you do it, at some point, you reach your peak, and you think you're done: your creative peak has been reached, nothing new can be done. So the creative flux turns into a reflux of technical work. You redo your own program, facing sleepless nights of hideous math and logic. Write, compile, test, debug; write, compile, test, debug. Then, you come back renewed, and with enough luck, you re-crafted your digital tool in such a way that you can build different things, you create new stuff, and they could be even better in a way; so you are happy about your effort again... for a while.

With time, with enough repetition, you notice that the flux and reflux of this sea would inevitably overflow the container, and eventually erase the continent. The waves (your efforts) take away (mostly time of) things that belong to your life. And all this only to overcome a creative block belonging to your hobby (in the worst case), or to your digital artistic work (in the best one). Those are the gates of obsession. The three options are: walk through them, walk away from them, or knock them down. How do I know? I knew about writing; in spanish. I knew well about it. But I didn't know how to control myself when facing a frontier. In the words of my mother, when I was a teenager: "You have no control of yourself". Without knowing, I crossed the gates of obsession and I ruined the pleasure of writing. And I had to knock the gates down, burn all my papers, and don't write creatively ever again.

You learn through your life. You really learn, or at least you find the facts that fit you best. ...I won't stain and ruin the pleasure of an activity that was born as a haven, not ever again.

It came the time of the reflux, of programming and recoding --write, compile, test, debug (even when you suck at it) and at the same time, you saw that the waves were becoming too wild.
I don't wanna irresponsibly surf through the flooded gates of obsession again, or I'll lose the peaceful pleasure of coming back here. So: I'm walking away from the gates, keeping the pleasure safe. Will come back to work on images and match poems later, when the sea is calm again.

C.