“I sketch the best when the conditions are just a little uncomfortable.” Salvador Dali
I saw this picture and quote a few days ago and liked it but noticed that it really stuck with me. We strive for comfort and security - it's natural, but regardless, life is constantly throwing us curveballs and making things challenging. Perhaps the best approach is not to fight it but to use it. Mr D reckons so. In fact, it appears, he seeks out the uncomfortable. Myself, I am not going to do that - cause I get plenty for free all the time (discomfort - physical and mental), so I will continue to savour any down time (sleeping, napping, escaping in a book, with a song or walking on the beach) but seeing this picture and quote have changed my mind about the uncomfortable times. Rather than curse them, I am going to use them. Let's see if it works!
I just had a vegie pizza (with anchovies and pineapple) at the local, old school pizza joint. They mostly do take away but there are two short bench tables up front and one or two small round tables up the back. It's so not trying hard that it's charm is irresistible. And the pizzas are made by an Aussie maestro. Prices are fair (this is starting to sound like an ad!) and they've got Chinotto - a deal clincher for me.
I get the medium and I leave two pieces. That is just the right amount. One extra piece and it's too much. Two extras and I feel heavy. Working out that this is the ideal size and amount took a bit of trial and error.
Anyway, driving home (it was 8:06 on the dash), I reversed out of the spot right in front and drove home, approximately 6 minutes away, through the centre of town. It's a Sunday. Along the way, I saw a total of three other cars. No people.
That is the first thing I like about living in this little town. (Population 3K and change). The second thing is that there are no traffic lights. None. There's one roundabout - but it never gets too busy.
The third thing... and I haven't planned this out, I am just going with the flow... is...
Meh! Do I really want to talk about living in a small town? Nah. I mean, it really is good. Not stressful, friendly, accessible.... etc. But I don't feel like writing a list or even thinking about it anymore. So, I'm going to change topics.
I had a nap a little while ago. And after I woke up I thought about how refreshing it is to break the mind continuum by throwing in a sleep. During a day, you have to keep track of things, you have to deal with realities, schedules, other people, driving, weather conditions, communications... And it can be a little wearing. It requires concentration. That's fine but at a certain point, sometimes, you just want to opt out. And what a wonderful way snoozing is to do so. It's like floating. Your cares and concerns drift away, you can shut down for a time. Refresh. Seriously, I'm a great advocate.
I do believe that I have a naturally busy mind. Not only do I pay close attention to my surroundings and events, nuances and formulate thoughts and opinions from them, but I also am constantly thinking up new ideas for creative projects: stories, songs, books, movies, plays. On top of that, I tend to regularly observe my own thought patterns and tendencies and speculate on them, assess them and note them. I step back and look in from the outside. Why? Because it's interesting and it's something I have always done. It's like being a scientist of sorts, unpaid and unheralded, one who's job is to investigate the mind of himself. It can get quite wild, murky, disturbing at times. But it is something I have always done, so I am reasonably comfortable with it. And I learn things. I adapt.
It is not foolproof, of course, and there have been times when I have spiralled. This tells me that I am fallible. And that, also, I am not fully in control. Even of myself. Sometimes, I just try and ride the wild horse. I just have to hang on.
This is true less and less. The older I get the more tame my mind has become. Or is it just more familiar. Are we old friends now. Does it care for me?
The interior life, eh! Some of you will be able to relate. And outsider will observe a person sitting in silence. But, oh, the goings on inside! My god!
This is why I am so grateful for creativity. It is an outlet, a focus. It gives me a form in which to channel much of this electric, pulsing energy. Because we are so much more than just our basic entities. We are mini-universes, each of us. And yet, to the outside world, we present such cultivated tiny packages.
In some ways, I guess, as a species, we are just now learning to open up more, be more expressive, more exorbitant, more truly representative of our complex souls. There is no need to hold back, to cloak, to disguise or restrain. We're all from the same crazy source. We're all facets of the one. The more of ourselves we release - the more it encourages others. And on and on. We can grow together, be free together. Release ourselves and each other.
Not just us small town dwellers... but everyone!!
I have started a few entries over the last two weeks and have left them unpublished, as invisible drafts.
One was too negative (although realistic about circumstances), the other I can't remember what stalled it's publication.
Many other times I have sat down to write something and just shrugged off the notion altogether - a mix of laziness, rebellion and ennui. Sometimes I can't muster up the positive energy to commit to forming a sentient, honest, current expression of my head space. Living it, it seems, is challenge enough.
I don't need to write stuff down because....
It's too complex.
It's too obvious.
It's too personal.
It's too confronting.
There are always plenty of reasons. Plus, I ask myself, what is the point of doing it at all? Who is it for? What is it for? What am I trying to achieve?
And these are good questions.
When I am actually into it, writing one or having just finished writing one; it all makes sense.
It's about uncovering truth. Investigating the depths and recesses. It's about detaching from my attachment to self and observing and reporting on what is occurring.
This can be beneficial because it offers insight and clarity.
It takes courage to speak out, to reveal one's inner workings. A bit of courage. And abandon. And trust. And devil-may-care attitude. In the end, after all, we'll all be dust - so why be precious. Why not mine whatever the present presents for some nuggets of interest?
Having a dialogue with one's self is amusing. It can be elevating.
Because time keeps moving on and we continue to evolve - nothing is set in stone. Nothing is permanent. All the notions and conceits, the dreams and delusions - grand and petite; all leaves in the wind. Clouds. Raindrops.
This is not me.
This is just me at the moment.
Tomorrow I will be different. And the next day again. And on.
So, it's amusing to carve a few scratches in the wall. It's something to do. It's a passing conversation. On record. It's the voice of one of billions. The tiny peep of a little bird. A glint in the sky.
This evening, after dinner, I lay down and fell asleep. I woke up and felt rested. I had gone far, far away, in dream. My slumber erased the day, the thoughts and feelings, and left me with a clean slate. It was refreshing.
We want to live and we want to experience but we also want to be fresh and ready for what is to come. It's such a complex, miraculous system. There is no real way to properly comprehend or explain what life is. We just keep going.
We think we know but we don't. And yet, somehow, we kind of do. Rather exquisite, confounding, tantalising.
Like this brief monologue: something but nothing.
ART GETS ME HIGH
Author & Artist