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Showing posts with label truth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label truth. Show all posts
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 21, 2010
i am growing up.
this morning everything is blue and grey and sometimes green. a new storm is either rolling in or rolling out. it is too early to tell. and yesterday it rained almost all day long. not that it mattered much, me locked up in my oils. i broke away from the canvas during a break in the weather so inga and i could obey The Almighty Jog and half way through it started raining again. not just a sprinkling, a hard rain, and we got pretty soaked. but there was delight even in that. and inga goes all frenzied and undone when her face gets wet, running and bouncing and jumping in all directions at once, a spilling frothing joy.
i hope today is along the same lines.
there is coffee in the pot and hazelnut cream and the scent of oil and rain clung up on all the windows. inga is sleeping next to me. the heater is on. it is a cold morning.
lately i've been feeling a strong need for detachment, for quiet, for distance. and it is not of the tranquil variety. not totally angry either. it is an odd ambivalence that seems to crave a great and impenetrable distance and lots of time spent in thought or allowing distraction to sweep my mind back up in to a pile that can function without becoming clogged with resentment. i am working my way back to the things that i believe in, the things that i think are relevant and important and necessary. i am mapping and collecting and investigating my attractions, my past, my loves, my hates... the card i've been dealt and the avenues i've wandered down and i've returned to a more fiery way of thinking... a rebelliousness of philosophy that does not allow me to let the circumstances of my life or birth dictate my present tense or my goals or accomplishments or dreams. i will not be the person sitting at the kitchen table, bitter beyond belief by way of absolute resignation, offering nothing but the excuse of suffering, nothing but the "it's not my fault" refrain, nothing but the callous insensitivity that seethes out of The Know-It-Alls of the world. i will not be that.
and of course i have compassion for those tortured, bitter souls. but i accept that i have no control over the beliefs and behaviors of others. i accept that i am incapable of becoming a savior. i have tried repeatedly to save people, to give them what they cry out for, what they need need need... and i have failed. failed each and every time and then woke up to see my life in shambles, the things i've undone, unknowingly, all along the way, all in the name of Help and Love and Service. i never stopped to make the judgement of whether or not the person on the other end of this was capable of respecting the sacrifice, of receiving love and help.
and so i am in a private war to not allow myself to become a cynic. it is not the only option. i could instead become a better judge of character. i could instead become more accepting of myself- my own limitations and responsibilities and proclivities and interests. i could instead take a good look in the mirror and ask that face "why are you such a push over?"
i've been asking myself that question for years, actually, but lately i've come across a couple answers. i see what my role in certain situations have been... and i know that i am not blameless. naive maybe, but not blameless.
and this naivety of mine is sly. i don't notice it the majority of the time and it has compromised things that i have worked HARD for. i can't allow it to continue. not now that i see it. and so, for the last several months, i've become more and more my true self, less and less obliged to work toward becoming "acceptable" to others, and the backlash is not fun but it is a necessary part of this particular journey. self-acceptance and self-investigation, evaluation, the private wrestling of belief systems, childhood craziness, desire, the root of desire, wrestling with the deep demons, the shape-shifters, the shadows that turn to monsters... it is hard work but it must be done. and i've been caught in this investigation for the better part of a year now and things are falling in to place, becoming clear, becoming obvious, thrown out in to a harsh, bright, unforgiving light. i see my flaws and faults so clearly. but i also see that not EVERYTHING is my fault. not everything is my responsibility. not everything is mine to fix or apologize for.
these lessons wear a person out. but not down. i have not been worn down. in fact, i feel gratitude for all this wrestling and writhing and strangeness. i think there comes a point in everyone's life, eventually, where this particular struggle becomes paramount. it extends to every area of a person's life. and it improves all those areas too.
i am on fire lately inside all of my interests. it's amazing. it really is. everyday i get up, pour myself a mug of coffee and go scribbling in my notebook for as long as i need to. this morning practice, this "waking ritual" of mine, writing while my brain is still too sleepy to censor, has led me to such a wonderful place of acceptance and honesty. and at the beginning of the year i made the decision to follow my heart, to trust the work completely, to only paint images that i was truly captivated by, and to surround myself with people who understand that, who know how important it is to go your own way, and this decision has made all the difference. i'm no longer afraid of anything. i can't begin to express what a relief that is. and how freeing.
images and words are searing out of me now and it is such a wonderful, painful, ecstatic, elating thing. i'm myself again. i'm happy with who i am and how i've decided to live. i'm not afraid to accept the consequences or responsibility of it. i like my work. i like my paintings. i like my drawings. i like my way.
i hope today is along the same lines.
there is coffee in the pot and hazelnut cream and the scent of oil and rain clung up on all the windows. inga is sleeping next to me. the heater is on. it is a cold morning.
lately i've been feeling a strong need for detachment, for quiet, for distance. and it is not of the tranquil variety. not totally angry either. it is an odd ambivalence that seems to crave a great and impenetrable distance and lots of time spent in thought or allowing distraction to sweep my mind back up in to a pile that can function without becoming clogged with resentment. i am working my way back to the things that i believe in, the things that i think are relevant and important and necessary. i am mapping and collecting and investigating my attractions, my past, my loves, my hates... the card i've been dealt and the avenues i've wandered down and i've returned to a more fiery way of thinking... a rebelliousness of philosophy that does not allow me to let the circumstances of my life or birth dictate my present tense or my goals or accomplishments or dreams. i will not be the person sitting at the kitchen table, bitter beyond belief by way of absolute resignation, offering nothing but the excuse of suffering, nothing but the "it's not my fault" refrain, nothing but the callous insensitivity that seethes out of The Know-It-Alls of the world. i will not be that.
and of course i have compassion for those tortured, bitter souls. but i accept that i have no control over the beliefs and behaviors of others. i accept that i am incapable of becoming a savior. i have tried repeatedly to save people, to give them what they cry out for, what they need need need... and i have failed. failed each and every time and then woke up to see my life in shambles, the things i've undone, unknowingly, all along the way, all in the name of Help and Love and Service. i never stopped to make the judgement of whether or not the person on the other end of this was capable of respecting the sacrifice, of receiving love and help.
and so i am in a private war to not allow myself to become a cynic. it is not the only option. i could instead become a better judge of character. i could instead become more accepting of myself- my own limitations and responsibilities and proclivities and interests. i could instead take a good look in the mirror and ask that face "why are you such a push over?"
i've been asking myself that question for years, actually, but lately i've come across a couple answers. i see what my role in certain situations have been... and i know that i am not blameless. naive maybe, but not blameless.
and this naivety of mine is sly. i don't notice it the majority of the time and it has compromised things that i have worked HARD for. i can't allow it to continue. not now that i see it. and so, for the last several months, i've become more and more my true self, less and less obliged to work toward becoming "acceptable" to others, and the backlash is not fun but it is a necessary part of this particular journey. self-acceptance and self-investigation, evaluation, the private wrestling of belief systems, childhood craziness, desire, the root of desire, wrestling with the deep demons, the shape-shifters, the shadows that turn to monsters... it is hard work but it must be done. and i've been caught in this investigation for the better part of a year now and things are falling in to place, becoming clear, becoming obvious, thrown out in to a harsh, bright, unforgiving light. i see my flaws and faults so clearly. but i also see that not EVERYTHING is my fault. not everything is my responsibility. not everything is mine to fix or apologize for.
these lessons wear a person out. but not down. i have not been worn down. in fact, i feel gratitude for all this wrestling and writhing and strangeness. i think there comes a point in everyone's life, eventually, where this particular struggle becomes paramount. it extends to every area of a person's life. and it improves all those areas too.
i am on fire lately inside all of my interests. it's amazing. it really is. everyday i get up, pour myself a mug of coffee and go scribbling in my notebook for as long as i need to. this morning practice, this "waking ritual" of mine, writing while my brain is still too sleepy to censor, has led me to such a wonderful place of acceptance and honesty. and at the beginning of the year i made the decision to follow my heart, to trust the work completely, to only paint images that i was truly captivated by, and to surround myself with people who understand that, who know how important it is to go your own way, and this decision has made all the difference. i'm no longer afraid of anything. i can't begin to express what a relief that is. and how freeing.
images and words are searing out of me now and it is such a wonderful, painful, ecstatic, elating thing. i'm myself again. i'm happy with who i am and how i've decided to live. i'm not afraid to accept the consequences or responsibility of it. i like my work. i like my paintings. i like my drawings. i like my way.
Apr 7, 2010
thanking my lucky stars
"A Lover's Discourse" by Roland Barthes (my forever mr. wonderful) is the best possible thing i could be reading right now. it pulls together, in such sensuous ways, all the things i've been reading, all the things i've been thinking, all the ideas, each splinter. and his eloquence is breath-taking. hard edged and shining. it is just like reading a book of poetry. it IS a work of poetry. and resistance. VIVA! he charts the site where all logic crumbles. logic falls away, unusable. reason becomes a frail thing in this land.
a fear.
an exaltation.
gorgeous. and every word, a true a word.
i have tried to pick a favorite passage to share here. i fail. there is no favorite if favorite means 'only one'. every word is necessary.
a fear.
an exaltation.
gorgeous. and every word, a true a word.
i have tried to pick a favorite passage to share here. i fail. there is no favorite if favorite means 'only one'. every word is necessary.
Mar 29, 2010
spectacular!
and so now i circle back to 'The Society of The Spectacle' and i see how savvy it all is- mistaking appearance for reality... or, rather, accepting appearances as reality: 'seeing is believing' and all that. and just as Debord says, sight is the most easily tricked of all the senses. accepting appearances as reality is accepting a non-reality. it is living a lie.
so... how to crack this non-reality? how to create a fissure where the truth can actually be seen? how to establish a road toward hope where truth can even be recognized as such?
he says: In a world that really has been turned on its head, truth is a moment of falsehood.
how sad and how helpless we all feel sometimes. how inept, how confused, how forlorn and despairing. how sorrowful the world becomes when truth is denied for the sake of appearances.
a hand must be kept on hope. art is a way to find that hope. it can be the thing that encourages the crack in The Spectacle. it can be the thing that counters the upside-down appearance with an odd mirror that restores a true(r) perspective. the fast flash of undeniable reality, charged and angry and lovable- necessary.
so... how to crack this non-reality? how to create a fissure where the truth can actually be seen? how to establish a road toward hope where truth can even be recognized as such?
he says: In a world that really has been turned on its head, truth is a moment of falsehood.
how sad and how helpless we all feel sometimes. how inept, how confused, how forlorn and despairing. how sorrowful the world becomes when truth is denied for the sake of appearances.
a hand must be kept on hope. art is a way to find that hope. it can be the thing that encourages the crack in The Spectacle. it can be the thing that counters the upside-down appearance with an odd mirror that restores a true(r) perspective. the fast flash of undeniable reality, charged and angry and lovable- necessary.
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