As creatives of any sort, we have the tendency to have a very “If you build it, they will come” mentality when it comes to our art.
We assume that if we just put the time in, if we write enough articles, play enough songs, paint enough pictures, that someday, somebody, somewhere, will notice us and change our lives for the better.
There’s this idea that all our job is as creators is to, well, create. No rhyme or reason necessary. Simply create for the love of creation and the universe will shift itself into alignment with what you want…
It feels like I’ve never truly made my own decisions.
Every path I’ve ever taken has either been something I’ve fallen into, or a decision I made out of the pressure of those final moments before my hand would be forced. I only went to college because it a school close by and everyone it was “what you did.” I fell into drug abuse because it was all around me and I didn’t care enough either way to just say no.
I never felt the autonomy of thinking about what I actually wanted to do. I never felt this way…
I go through these cycles every few months.
Things seem to be on the up and up. The sluggish days unstick their feet and finally find their footing. I start feeling less heavy, as I’m not as weighed down by my own expectations of myself. I see things more clearly, like I’ve been wearing a dirty monocle over my mind’s eye and someone finally took the time to give it a good spritz and scrub.
It feels like freedom.
Freedom from the quicksand that’s been tugging at my legs and keeping me in my room. Freedom from the apprehension to…
It truly feels as if I can hear it.
Each uniquely designed hourglass grain
as it tumbles from its nest of potential
through the birth canal of this very moment.
Hear it as it sings through the
Swan diving towards imminent oblivion
and striking the pile of dead memory
Like a kind of existential water torture.
I can feel the tremors of time as each second splashes
onto the corpses of its kin.
One might think it’s knowledge enough to fuel
the haste of an uncertain tomorrow.
But the reverberations I feel
from each mote…
Admit it or not, there’s a thinly veiled arrogance that comes with the pursuit of art.
It may not be the main ingredient, but at the bottom of that recipe there’s always an additional handwritten scribble that says something along the lines of: One pinch of ego.
It’s that dash of ego that convinces us that we can create. That it’s not some otherworldly spell reserved only for rarified demi-gods, but is latent within each of us. …
I used to think that being surrounded by likeminded people was always a good thing.
It absolutely can be, to an extent. When you feel as if you’ve found “your people,” life starts to feel a bit less overwhelming simply due to the proximity of those familiar faces. You can find support in others, comfort in friends, and peace among the people you care about most. But this isn’t about the benefits of friendship, it’s about the hazards of stagnation that same comfort presents.
As I’m sure anyone who grew up in a small town can attest to, being surrounded…
It’s a weird feeling, seeing yourself in an entirely different light.
It’s the closest thing we have to seeing ourselves through the eyes of another person. When we reframe who we think we are, without rejecting the possibility that we could be wrong about ourselves, we open ourselves up to truths normally well hidden. We catch a glimpse of what it must be like to see ourselves as a stranger might meeting us for the first time and experiencing the initial impression of what we’re like.
With enough digging any sort of deep introspection is bound to yield results. If…
In a world slowly becoming more and more governed by the idea that how you identify yourself is paramount, there has emerged also the notion that every person, no matter how ludicrous their personal claims of identity, is already somehow perfect in who they currently are at any given moment.
Forget growth as the natural effect of new information, to hell with health standards or objective beauty of any kind, and damn those who dare claim that your debilitating self-perception and mental state is anything less than exactly who you should be because, after all, it’s who you are.
It can’t stand the silence.
It either sustains itself on the spectral energy of the past, or entertains itself in the confusing and anxious haze of the future. The present moment takes its breath away in the same manner that stumbling upon a solar eclipse might take away ours.
The ego can’t survive unless we feed it from either our memory or our uncertainty. …
It’s kind of like seeing the check engine light come on in your car, putting a piece of tape over it to willfully ignore the issue and hoping it goes away on its own, then forgetting you had ever covered it up in the first place.
Until a few years later you started hearing a suspicious clunk under the hood. It’s alarming at first, but you continue driving on your merry way. Every car starts to make weird noises after a while, right? Another month passes, another clunk. Another week, clunk-clunk. …