ART into LIFE
what it takes to live through tomorrow
Some days I sit to write a lyric or a song or this blog... or a letter...
And I write a word like "tommorow" and I forget how it's spelled.
All of a sudden, the word looks new... like I invented it... like a foreign language shuffle... a brand new reality associated with that perception ... leaks in.
Remember , have you ever heard folks used to say "You couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag?"
We need to invent such a saying in regards to facing our perceptions of life's equations....
With each new day, truly we are new.
Yet, like the illusions of yesterday, our current realities and perceptions slide us into a groove...
A groove we haven't even noticed became a rut long ago.
...what it takes to live through facing our worn out illusions...
... might just be what it also takes to not look so close , so often...
Maybe these realities, grooves, and perceptions will eventually save our ass.
If you look up famous quotes on the creative moment, you will notice the wisdom of the ones who made their creative life a workable arrangement.
...somehow they fed their families... found a semblance of peace, and soemthing close to joy... every so often.
Read their quotes... read their commentaries on the practise that took them from day to day.
Within a certain number of years of struggle, they were expressing their gratitude for their limitations.
Notice that they have often said, over and over again in amny upon many ways that without their struggles and limitations, the art would never have been truly great.
They found themselves risinig above past performance.. because, often it was either do that and do it adaptively, or die... die of starvatioon either of nutritional starvation or inner peace starvation.
Inner peace Starvation is walking death.
Yet, unless an artist brushes up against it... they will never know the true range of their creative flow...
They see themselves rising above, going beyond all past limitations...
And the only reason was because they felt a "gun" to their heads.
the gun of loneliness, while doingn the art in isolation... or the gun of loss, whgile they watch themselves called a loser while they are building in their world, something the often released after all abandoned them... redeemed the whole scenario...
Yet...
No matter how many times an artist survives these triumphs... it only makes the next time all the more excruciating.
Seeing folks casting their doubts and leaving, when you know they will soon return and say it was all a joke... makes it all the harder to watch them walk away... as if you have a social disease.
I love to study the way some who have integrity, live through these ebbs and flows.
One day they are saluted... the next day they are despised...
I woke up this morning, inside an incredible dream.
It was like I never lost her...
She was knocking on my door... when she walked through, I wanted to hold each other... the way she always demanded.
The love in my heart was just as strong and as fresh as the day I first met her... when she was a zombie.
Years later, she finally says she honors my spirit and wished it hadn't gone that way.
Yet she sunk my ship... traded me out for a rich guy... one of many times in my life this has happened.
The ones who can't tap the creative flow... they hover and steal using money as the lure. They wait for a guy like me... and artist ike me to develop a glowing relationship with someone they overlooked... they wait till she and I glow... then they swoop in and steal... waving money and security.
They lure death and deception and struggle into my world, right when I am in the flow of a wave that's still being ridden, the board tips and I am under the water.
Studyingin human relations around the true artists, male and female of this world... whether they are actors, writers, poets, film makers... artists, mothers, fathers... whatever..... the artists of life...
They all experienced this at one time.
The despise of the press... the false rumours... the judgements.
IN truth it is always war.
Same things happen to countries... to classes of people... to the peaceful ones all through out history.
The peripheral people are never happy to watch someone, or a nation in peace and solemnity...
And when you take your eyes off of the creative flow... it's like they won... You become them, having to face the decision of protecting what you may have already earned... from idiots.
If you release a response, you are worse then the atttacker.
When I knew this was happening in my heart, I took the 3000 miles... the buffer zone was for THEIR dafety, not mine.
I still carry the deeper love...
Yet a memory of the insidious rejections... while I was completing a series of art shows... the devisive judgemnts built to justify tradingme out with a slimey rich guy... I had to know it was all happening and know I hadn't the resources , then, to defend my own family. Money ruled.
Yet... money never won.
Whatever tactics folks used to steal from me...
They eventually will die of.
Here I am this morning waking up to the incredibly life giving , living love in my heart... for a person who really sold me out in a thousand ways.
Just last week, I found a box of voicemails and letters from her... all charting her course to dump me... all with ultimatums and conclusions built by idiot "marriage couselors"... back then I couldn't tell who I was anymore... she had me sized up and running incircles.
So I left.
But these days... I see it was all just tactics of war, waged by those who wanted into her pants...
And without any cash, or a decent attorney... I was dog meat.
consider what it might take to allow for others to mow down your world... and know that survival , for now... is all you can do.
consider the amount of strenght it takes to hear folks, years later do their lame apologies... and to see the idiots falling on their own weapons...
to know that you knew it back then...
But it would have put yer ass i njail to do anything to attempt to stop that...
so.
Day in ...
Day out...
Now...
You have to wake up and see, that through the last 15 years, you came to an understanding and clarity which have all revealed youhad been ripped off... back then... and now carry a permanent scar...
Yet the love is still real.
I must admit,
I don't think many exist on this planet who would even try to sacrifice, truly sacrifice anything for love.
...when she said she needed what she needed,
I stepped away... and allowed for her to have it.
Just so happens that , in my gut, I knew she was wrong.
...years later, I really see it... how goofy I must have been to allow such lame stuff to destroy me..
Yet.
In these years, current years and moments...
....whatever I pick up to express the creative flow through, glows...
...and I only create worth while art... with sparkle and power.
Back then... such was not the case..
So.
I must say I am grateful.
How else would I have blossomed.... except through pruning my most precious parts back so far that only flowers of today could grow these years later.
And that dream of her walking in my door.
Oh so sweet...
Yet..
Reality says I may never know that day again, not with her or anyone.
Meanhile the art invenjts itself towards immortality.
I know this is the end game.
And there is no doubt that it takes strnght and courage to wake up each and every day.
www.ARTintoLIFE.com
http://www.zazzle.com/toekneestanger*
Some days I sit to write a lyric or a song or this blog... or a letter...
And I write a word like "tommorow" and I forget how it's spelled.
All of a sudden, the word looks new... like I invented it... like a foreign language shuffle... a brand new reality associated with that perception ... leaks in.
Remember , have you ever heard folks used to say "You couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag?"
We need to invent such a saying in regards to facing our perceptions of life's equations....
With each new day, truly we are new.
Yet, like the illusions of yesterday, our current realities and perceptions slide us into a groove...
A groove we haven't even noticed became a rut long ago.
...what it takes to live through facing our worn out illusions...
... might just be what it also takes to not look so close , so often...
Maybe these realities, grooves, and perceptions will eventually save our ass.
If you look up famous quotes on the creative moment, you will notice the wisdom of the ones who made their creative life a workable arrangement.
...somehow they fed their families... found a semblance of peace, and soemthing close to joy... every so often.
Read their quotes... read their commentaries on the practise that took them from day to day.
Within a certain number of years of struggle, they were expressing their gratitude for their limitations.
Notice that they have often said, over and over again in amny upon many ways that without their struggles and limitations, the art would never have been truly great.
They found themselves risinig above past performance.. because, often it was either do that and do it adaptively, or die... die of starvatioon either of nutritional starvation or inner peace starvation.
Inner peace Starvation is walking death.
Yet, unless an artist brushes up against it... they will never know the true range of their creative flow...
They see themselves rising above, going beyond all past limitations...
And the only reason was because they felt a "gun" to their heads.
the gun of loneliness, while doingn the art in isolation... or the gun of loss, whgile they watch themselves called a loser while they are building in their world, something the often released after all abandoned them... redeemed the whole scenario...
Yet...
No matter how many times an artist survives these triumphs... it only makes the next time all the more excruciating.
Seeing folks casting their doubts and leaving, when you know they will soon return and say it was all a joke... makes it all the harder to watch them walk away... as if you have a social disease.
I love to study the way some who have integrity, live through these ebbs and flows.
One day they are saluted... the next day they are despised...
I woke up this morning, inside an incredible dream.
It was like I never lost her...
She was knocking on my door... when she walked through, I wanted to hold each other... the way she always demanded.
The love in my heart was just as strong and as fresh as the day I first met her... when she was a zombie.
Years later, she finally says she honors my spirit and wished it hadn't gone that way.
Yet she sunk my ship... traded me out for a rich guy... one of many times in my life this has happened.
The ones who can't tap the creative flow... they hover and steal using money as the lure. They wait for a guy like me... and artist ike me to develop a glowing relationship with someone they overlooked... they wait till she and I glow... then they swoop in and steal... waving money and security.
They lure death and deception and struggle into my world, right when I am in the flow of a wave that's still being ridden, the board tips and I am under the water.
Studyingin human relations around the true artists, male and female of this world... whether they are actors, writers, poets, film makers... artists, mothers, fathers... whatever..... the artists of life...
They all experienced this at one time.
The despise of the press... the false rumours... the judgements.
IN truth it is always war.
Same things happen to countries... to classes of people... to the peaceful ones all through out history.
The peripheral people are never happy to watch someone, or a nation in peace and solemnity...
And when you take your eyes off of the creative flow... it's like they won... You become them, having to face the decision of protecting what you may have already earned... from idiots.
If you release a response, you are worse then the atttacker.
When I knew this was happening in my heart, I took the 3000 miles... the buffer zone was for THEIR dafety, not mine.
I still carry the deeper love...
Yet a memory of the insidious rejections... while I was completing a series of art shows... the devisive judgemnts built to justify tradingme out with a slimey rich guy... I had to know it was all happening and know I hadn't the resources , then, to defend my own family. Money ruled.
Yet... money never won.
Whatever tactics folks used to steal from me...
They eventually will die of.
Here I am this morning waking up to the incredibly life giving , living love in my heart... for a person who really sold me out in a thousand ways.
Just last week, I found a box of voicemails and letters from her... all charting her course to dump me... all with ultimatums and conclusions built by idiot "marriage couselors"... back then I couldn't tell who I was anymore... she had me sized up and running incircles.
So I left.
But these days... I see it was all just tactics of war, waged by those who wanted into her pants...
And without any cash, or a decent attorney... I was dog meat.
consider what it might take to allow for others to mow down your world... and know that survival , for now... is all you can do.
consider the amount of strenght it takes to hear folks, years later do their lame apologies... and to see the idiots falling on their own weapons...
to know that you knew it back then...
But it would have put yer ass i njail to do anything to attempt to stop that...
so.
Day in ...
Day out...
Now...
You have to wake up and see, that through the last 15 years, you came to an understanding and clarity which have all revealed youhad been ripped off... back then... and now carry a permanent scar...
Yet the love is still real.
I must admit,
I don't think many exist on this planet who would even try to sacrifice, truly sacrifice anything for love.
...when she said she needed what she needed,
I stepped away... and allowed for her to have it.
Just so happens that , in my gut, I knew she was wrong.
...years later, I really see it... how goofy I must have been to allow such lame stuff to destroy me..
Yet.
In these years, current years and moments...
....whatever I pick up to express the creative flow through, glows...
...and I only create worth while art... with sparkle and power.
Back then... such was not the case..
So.
I must say I am grateful.
How else would I have blossomed.... except through pruning my most precious parts back so far that only flowers of today could grow these years later.
And that dream of her walking in my door.
Oh so sweet...
Yet..
Reality says I may never know that day again, not with her or anyone.
Meanhile the art invenjts itself towards immortality.
I know this is the end game.
And there is no doubt that it takes strnght and courage to wake up each and every day.
www.ARTintoLIFE.com
http://www.zazzle.com/toekneestanger*
posted by Toe Knee at 5:28 PM
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