I want so badly to create.
I can feel it welling up inside. It wants to emerge.
I’ll be taking a photography class this spring to clarify my understanding of ‘aperture’ and ‘f-stop’. I want so badly to be involved in film production, sound editing, etc… but I cannot commit myself to a formal education…I feel like that’s a cop-out, from an artist’s standpoint. Yes, basics are essential, and I will go to classes for that…but otherwise, the answers rest on my shoulders and in my mind. I have little faith in education in an institution.
I want to create beauty, light, understanding, empathy, darkness, wholeness, emotion…I want to create art. I want to create a perfect vignette…a moment in time where all the elements meet to move you body and soul. That is why we as humans are here…this world is our palette.
This is my time to figure out the answers to myself. And the creation of a better me…a me, that I want to be.link >
I have a conundrum.
I miss people I’ve never met.
I have touchstones for these people. I have things that remind me of these people. It feels like an indulgence to even consider the possibility of missing someone never known.
But I do. Some are more prominent than others. I have to see their eyes…then I remember or I don’t. Actors, musicians, and people that are in the public’s eye are the easiest to recognize. I feel absurd. But I can FEEL them. The few.
Music. The way music makes you feel. That is how I remember easily, well, at least easier than no music. The feeling ambushes me. Never sad. Like a fond memory of someone passed.
I feel their smiles in my soul. The warmth. The emotions, condensed. Sometimes I can feel their loss…overwhelmingly.
I love remembering and recognizing…but then they pop up in my subconscious and I miss them. I wish this was a fanciful fabrication of my obsession with understanding people. I wish that I could say this is a recent feeling…if only so I could easily dismiss it as folly.
I still miss them…but mostly one.link >
Those eyes. Those familiar feelings from much too long ago.
Far too long.
I am a traveler of both time and space. And I remember you face.
I can feel you. I remember how you felt.
Here and now you are far, far away.
The curse of remembering is all too present. I want to know you in this life. I want to make certain that my inclinations from afar are indeed true. To know you now would be the biggest extravagance I would ever know.
Would you be what I see? Or would you be empty and void of memories from long lost past…
Is this my burden? To recognize love from long ago…and carry it with me? It feels more like a gift…but gifts usually don’t make my heart swell and stomach drop.
You will be as I feel you in my infinite soul. Love. Happiness once endured and soundly resonating in my soul. Igniting a glimmer in my spirit.link >
A peak into one of my playlists. This one is called “catharsis”. Yep. (Taken with instagram)
it is everything
It’s raining out and there is a frayed hole in my stomach. An emptiness that is felt in my throat. Time to write what is.
Time to absorb the music that cleanses and fulfills me to my very last cell. A metamorphosis that exists quietly within me. The glue that binds me to my mortal flesh.
I always feel like this after. After another stroke of art has been added to the canvas that is myself. It always started with a deep seeded meaning. That would be my choice, something that symbolized an emotion, or words that clarified my being to the world and to myself. Now it’s a connection. It’s not as much about me anymore, but about sharing myself with an artist and with the universe…a concise declaration of my inner self and wanting to feel someone else’s beauty on me and define me. These experiences that I feel at the hand of an artist are some of the dearest to me…every time I walk away having changed a little, and not just the obvious physical transformation. Yes, to some it is simple: a design, a stencil, a permanent (kinda) reminder of a decision once made…foolishly or thoroughly premeditated. These choices are who we are. I never believe that they will mean as much as they do…but they do. I am starting to understand the depth to which it is to share yourself with an artist.
I have thought about this too much. I do that. But, I can clearly feel that which drives me. And for that I would spend a lifetime pontificating. The mystery of our individual souls is the answer to everything.10 notes link >