I was thinking about what I wrote yesterday. About sharing my vulnerability here in my art blog. One of the reasons I include posts like that is because they come up, they write themselves and I feel no need to sublimate or hide them. But, I wondered, later, is it a good thing to include stuff like that - that is a bit of a downer?
And, yes, I decided, it is important to balance the good with the bad. It is utmost important (to me) to be real and raw. That is what this forum is for. What I chose to spend time and energy on. I feel it is worthwhile.
There is too much image, cover up, misrepresentation around. Truth gets shouted over, veiled, manipulated.
Fuck that, I say.
The more real you are with yourself, and with those around you, the more authentic a life you will lead. And what point fake? Foggy? Clouded? Things are challenging enough as they are.
One of my primary goals with these writings is to be honest and fearless. Share my heart, bare my soul. Having made it to fifty five, so far, I feel like I can be of humble service to my fellow beings by opening up, revealing. We like authenticity, we crave it, need it, need it bad.
The journey is a long one and anything that can illuminate, expound upon, reveal honest sentiments and experiences that will assist us in our voyage is a good thing.
There is not point in me just crapping on about the good stuff. Sharing victories, flaunting my art, preaching poetically about the wonders of creativity - as magnificent as they are. We all need some mustard, spice, charred flavours, too. The underside, the mystery, the murky confusion, the fog - for we live there, too. On the downside, the dark side. It is nothing to fear. Not really. Not nearly as much as we tend to anyway.
None of this is news, it's just off-the-top-of-my-head though sharing.
I'm an ordinary guy. I am complex. Sometimes, I am troubled, lost, destabilised by circumstance. I'm the same as all of us. But I want to speak, I want give voice to the howling wind in the sudden storms, I want to find words for the turgid waves that crash against our row boat souls and throw us to and fro, without mercy, relentlessly at times. I want to make sense of the senseless, throw light on the bleak, put a tattered blanket around the shivering frame of the fragile universal soul during times of stress and spiky challenge.
To make it though the gauntlets of my own, I want to reflect on the twists, recount the harrowing falls and summit attempt failures, give solace to the exhausted, the weary, the injured elements that reside within us. I am no hero, but maybe, if I never give up, I can close my eyes for the final time with a meek and fragile smile of victory knowing that not only did I withstand the best that fate could hurl at me but that I fucking chewed it up and spat it out, mouth bloody, teeth shattered, face blackened, but like I said, smiling faintly, completely spent, ready to release my sword, drop my pen and fall into the roaring silence.
Ho, ho. I do have fun with words. They give me access to a higher power, a taste of wonder which we all share, a single strand with which to connect to our universal connectedness.
Let me be clear then. I embrace it all. I have reached the point where I can clearly see that to do so is the only way. Be immersed but unattached. Sounds like a paradox. Fittingly.
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