The hardest thing to do is make yourself do what you don’t want to do. A sort of inertia sets in and the very thought of moving in a different direction is difficult . It is always easier to keep doing the same thing. You know it , it is safe.
it is familiar. Its you. Your identity.
It’s hard to get cold and hungry and feel the pain of not knowing what will happen next. The anxiety of the unknown , untested, foreign.
The desert is like that. It is uncomfortable to actually walk through it. Much easier to just drive by. But hiking through it is a thing I would rather put off.
till another time. When it gets quiet, you have to listen to your fears and the doubts that come up.
Unfortunately nothing good comes from being safe . It’s a trap. A death trap.
You need to show up. Nobody does art unless they need to. You can’t not do it. It makes you do it. It is not like you choose to do it. If my assertion that you don’t need to know anything to do art then it might follow that everyone would do it because how fun is that. You get to fool around all day.
but not everyone does want to do it. That is because it is not easy. It is hard to show up everyday and work and face it. At least it is hard for me and I cannot not do it. So it must be hard for everyone to slog it out. You can’t make it turn out great so you have to keep showing up and paint or write lots of bad things before the good one comes out.
You need discipline , courage, stamina, determination when it is easier to just do something else. anything else.
Art is not easy, art is a miracle when is appears. Art is euphoric when you get to be the one it comes through and it can be like agony when it does not show up.
I like to think about Edison, trying over and over and over times 1000 times to get the light to work. What kept him going?? Why did it take so long?? What tremendous courage to keep going.
Thank God for the rain
it washes down over my sad body
it covers the tears that are still coming
and joins them and carries them away till they hit the earth
washes them into the earth to water the ground of hope and renewal
one hundred thousand tears flood into the rain and together waterfall down.
In the morning it felt like a ton of bricks were crushing my heart. I could barely get dressed dreading this day. I was yelling at my poor husband to hurry hurry and get going because I wanted this to be over.
That is how it started. And then when we arrived at the church I was still in a crying sad horrible grumpy dreading angry state which was weird. Why was I angry at the cantor who was just existing.
But then something happened. We had my niece play the violin as we walked down the aisle . The music was gorgeous and it lifted me up into another space,
My brother had to give the Eulogy and he did a great job and then it started getting good. the readings were good the music continued to be lovely and sweet and all the tears were dried up and turned into joy. Joy for his life that we were blessed to be part of. Joy for all the family I had there and my friends who came and stood with us and the music was so beautiful that it floated and we got to sing You are my Sunshine, to my Dad one last time It rained and that was appropriate. We bonded like never before and then we went out to the burial site and it got even better. The formality and beauty of that service was so touching and sweet and wonderful that the day could not have gotten better but it did and we ate and had a party together and truly celebrated his life and the day could not get better but it did .
A sweet soul from my church came over with dinner that was so delicious and we shared it with everyone who came back again to the house and we all talked about how fortunate we were. Joy was abounding and forever.
WE all came through the dark path together and came out the other side better. We are better in every way.