Find your bliss, bla…bla… bla… But why is it so freaking difficult to find this thing that we are supposed to be doing, that is going to make it all make sense, make us happy, give us purpose?
Perhaps because it is a simple thing of childhood. Grownups put “childish things” away and make things complicated. Grownups go to seminars to figure out how to live.
Grownups make-work, stay busy and take Prozac.
What was the first lesson of childhood, besides, “No!”?
The hope of every artist is that his or her work will live on some way outside of itself. To do that, we need each other. It’s hard facing rejection every day, not just of what we do, but who we are at the deepest level.
Facing a case of paralysis in starting my next writing project, I holed up at the coast with bottled water, 5 Lean Cousines and a big box of wine looking for my mojo and my inner Hemingway.
Know where I found the spark? Talking to another artist and getting inspired by his work, and feeling gratitude for my friends Joe McDermott and John Cates, fellow artists lending me their kind expertise to help me on a project that I am more excited about than anything in recent memory.
I’m excited about a whole new area and want to spread that excitement like wildfire!
Our gift and our obligation as artists is to infect others : with joy, inspiration, wonder, mystery, outrage… To infect the lives of others with artistry.
Set free the imprisoned splendor.