Monday, January 25, 2016

The Art In the Madness of Our Being


mississippi riverside


 “They were all brilliant. They wrote books and painted pictures, and if they ever stopped talking, which I was sure they would never do, they planned to change the world.”
Gloria Whelan,
Listening for Lions


  It has been said that all artists are mad. So many are so emotional, they ooze feelings and impressions through their very pores. And others are more stoic and hidden. If you wish to know what they think, you must look at what they produce. We (I am fully aware of my own self control and hiding of my emotions, knowing what it's like when I'm not) make the most sense through our art, through our own creations. Through that we are able to find a form of purity and truth in expression.

  “I existed on my own terms. I was different my entire life. Some called me divergent, wild, crazy, unpredictable and unconformed—an apostate to the rules of the majority. I called myself God’s creation and found purpose in the madness. When that day came, I didn’t allow other people to dictate how I should feel or act. I learned there was no shame in imperfection because history had shown being different had the power to change perspectives and eventually the world. This is when I realized that flaws had responsibility. This was the day that I learned I was truly BLESSED.”
Shannon L. Alder


  I find that so beautiful. Finding peace in our natures, realizing their uniqueness and beauty, and our connection to the loveliness of life, that is a tremendous blessing. I know for myself there are days where I feel disassociated from everything, I have just emotionally flat-lined. I'm just listless and disinterested, often following a bout of inspiration mania. And then often enough I'll just stand looking over the neighborhood, and I'll feel the warmth of the sun creep through my skin. I find this singular normalcy, this intimate existential experience with nature is the best thing that brings me back to myself. In the beginning it was like this, waking to the sun--and as the warmth spreads, so do the beginnings of coming back. Of finding ourselves again. And our blessed purpose among the madness of who we are. Everything has its season, ours is just the most amazing.





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