April 18, friday 2008
In meadows of sun, birds fly, the sun bleeding warmth and fire into their black feathers. Birds with homes of no knowledge of us, simple trees in converse with nature that hold secrets and tales that will never be revealed to human ears. A sun that burns our skin with heat that travels across the cold space incapable of transversing sound, a heat so intense when it bears down straight upon us though it is millions of units away from us. It's almost impossible to truly ascertain the true nature of the sun for us. Its true light and unbelievable temperature.
Here in Washington, on warmer days, near 60 degrees, we find it unbearably hot, though we welcome the warm night like warmed honey. It reminds me, those rare nights, of Las Vegas evenings in the suburbs. I do not get to enjoy these evenings due to work, and those warm evenings are my dreams. I cannot sleep in hot air. It chokes me. I do not love the cold either. I prefer the lukewarm, unless it's a beverage. No chill - though I love the wind - and no closing of wind pipes due to extreme heat.
I love it out here in the country. I love communing with individuals. But I am a loner by nature. It is something beyond my call, beyond my choice and my reason. Like all great artists and those aspiring artists, I wish to communicate a sort of beauty and unspoken tenderness of human life with everyone out there. To be one with all, to speak with unanimous desire tantamount within us all, all of us with pure, so to say, nature. To be an evaporated dew within the cloud. Together by anonymity. And when we can see each other face to face and talk and truly connect, one on one, that is beautiful. That is right. I am for you, even beyond myself. I will die and leave this earth, and all the quarrels I had with the mundane and the extreme and the things to be forgotten will be forgotten as well, but if I spread beauty, that will remain, and hopefully flourish. There are few words of negativity remembered - there is an astounding list of hopeful, inspirational quotes though.
It is strange that the arts are undernourished, yet they thrive like the green plant beneath the concrete. The arts are physical hope. Perhaps it is only right that our art is underpaid. Complete contentment has so rarely been the home and food of great art. A place of normalcy and security, or regularity, creates a pattern, like sand sueded to the repeating currents of the ocean or the river. Nothing new comes in this familiar place, and it holds no inspiration or magic, because it is just security as defined by society - money and a home and a job and a routine - and all we know is that pattern, that routine. Perhaps being a business executive is an art of sort - that constant whole bodied battle against everything in the world, all for yourself. But therein lies the downfall of artistic integrity - you are doing for YOURSELF, not for others, and all the blood you claim is in your name and your own selfish desires and needs. I imagine the business executive is a very loney and isolated person, a humongous facade and face, and for all the claims or implications of their happiness, they know it's all a lie, but they don't want anyone to know that. You can only see their success and riches and ease of access to everything we work our bones for. Those of us lucky enough to KNOW happiness know money is not happiness (though financial security can cause ease of mind and even boost our endeavors). It is the blooming of our spirit and the acknowledgment of the good that our soul recognizes. It is almost as simple as following your folly.
Even those who know happiness are not happy robots who fail to recognize the rest of the emotional spectrum. There is no good without evil. It is ying and yang. Without opposing forces, there is neutrality, which some interpret as good, but is it really good?
I give you my heart and soul, and I know in many ways it is not enough for you, whoever you may be, but there are a few people out there who recognize what is in you, and those are the people that are your friends.
I always wish I could be better for you, because you yourself are so wonderful, but I also know that who I am is enough for you, even with all my shortcomings. I just want to strive to be my best for you, and I'm not to the point yet where I want to be my best for everyone else. I don't understand everyone else, and I don't see why I need to perform for people who just laugh at me. Perhaps I am not supposed to see the point. I try to not think about what the negative people think of me, but it's so hard. The only way that I can begin to brush off their glimmering indecencies towards me is, "They are not your friends. They're not in your life. They're not going to enrich your life or who you are." My friend told me that. And that's the only way I can let it go.
I wish I could stop all other bullies who are cruel and manipulate the lifes and feelings of other younger, more easily influenced people. You can break people that way. Sometimes the bullying can make you strong, the victim, but too much and it will kill you. Friends are vital.
It's important to recognize the amazingness and vitalness that is hope, but also important to not create impossible expectations for others.
Something very important to know is that yes, only you can make yourself happy.
Sometimes this seems illogical.
What about the happiness friends bring you, or art?
No art or person will make you happy unless you are happy with who you are inside. There is no answer. There is no map. There are no instructions. It's just a thing that you have to explore and discover yourself.
Be ok with being alone. Be ok with having no home. Be ok with being nowhere. Create it all in yourself, and create that pinnacle in you, and then come back to the world with your core in place, and understand your place.