Each creation is singular, and can be compared to no other spiritual activity, not even to another creation.
But we may attempt to describe the process whereby it comes about: even if its results are unique, the paths it follows are somehow subject to recurrence.
Normally an individual’s spiritual energies are in a certain equilibrium, spread out over the sequence of time in his life. Every lived instant has required the investment of a small (or large) quantity of energy, which remains indefinitely caught and involved in that moment. We leave a bit of ourselves in every moment of our existence, we can go beyond it because we have yielded something to that moment. Each individual, examining his own past, appears distinct from himself in his memory, and thus, for this very reason, can remain visible to himself. He can retain his past moments precisely because he has lost them. The panoramic view, thus obtained, of the sequence of moments from which we are detached, is subjectivity (sub-jectum), both the regulating principle of the moderate, systematic expenditure allowing us to advance in life, and that which, moment after moment, is systematically dissolved in it. …
In particular circumstances undetermined by the will, the spirit reaches its terminus and there is no more possibility of anticipation. At this point the illusion of soaring high, which constitutes subjectivity, disappears, and we belong to the moment, totally dedicated to the moment.
The energy concentrated in the act that founds subjectivity is then directly returned to the present, free of any game of prestige. The keeping in view turns into a letting go: an entire life switches signals from the bottom of its roots. The center of gravity is reversed. In this reversal there occurs a sort of releasing of energy which, because of it, has become excess.

Creation is not directly produced by a decision of the will, but is only an unscheduled consequence: it occurs as a repercussion of the reform of the spirit. But sometimes the complete reversal of the center of gravity is prevented by an obtuse and invincible resistance, stemming perhaps directly from instinct (creation is not a natural fact, in a certain sense it is unnatural). The creator’s spirit is left in mid-air, suspended, no longer in equilibrium yet still not reversed, in an exhausting struggle against itself.
The achieving of the reform can be fostered by a heroic insistence on an ecstasy, by an unforeseen and upsetting sensation, by a trauma, like for instance cutting off one’s ear, or else, for such achieving, the creative potential may let itself be spurred by the violence of a passion, a sorrow, or by other subjects who unknowingly share, by their action, in providing the final shove to the resistance the creator’s organism is opposing to creation. The most incalculable act is actually the most coldly, shrewdly calculated, in the Maelstrom of the spirit.

Alberto Madricardo