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i was going to do a different blog than this one; a zen-do-da blog (see link for more on zen-do-da if you don’t know what that is)

i was all set to be blissful and encouraging and uplifting.  i’ve read The Secret,TheSecretLogo you know, and other books like that.  i DO believe that we have the option and power to make our lives what we want.  sort of.  i mean, i believe that changing our thoughts for the better equals finding and receiving better things.  but this blog went south on me…sort of literally.

so i’m in the bathroom (hey we all poop, there’s a book about it)

Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi

Everyone Poops
by Taro Gomi

and i’m reading one of these happy books, telling me that i’m in control.  usually in these situations (moments of … reclining in the restroom) i’m working a Sudoku puzzle.  i know, i know, TMI.  whatever.  but i’m out of puzzles for this purpose, so i’m reading this feel good book and making notes with my little red pen.  and i’m all “la la la, life is good” when i drop my pen down the toilet.  for real??

and i’m wondering to myself: how does an artist or writer apply the ideas and beliefs of the Secret to his life?  and i’m hoping any of you followers out there will join in on this as a discussion.  because The Secret poses a dilemma for those of us in the art industry.

if i were a professional bowler, or a mail delivery agent, or a worker in any one of a million different fields, i could see how The Secret thinking could improve my life and my productivity.  but for those of us who are writers and artists, how do we make this work?

if you haven’t read The Secret, i highly recommend you do.  otherwise you will have no idea what i’m talking about here, and that’s no fun at all.  basically the premise is that what you think is what you get.  if you put out a bunch of negative thoughts and energy, that’s what you are bringing right back to you.  if, on the other hand, you are putting out love, and happiness, and good thoughts, you will be getting back same.

ok, you may or may not agree with all that.  that we will save for another blog.

this blog wants discussion.

if i’m a writer, i can’t just sit and write about a girl picking daisies all day.  boring. then she goes and walks along the beach, and finds a million dollars in a packet of 10’s and 20’s, non sequentially numbered and wrapped in a pink bow, so she doesn’t even have to claim taxes if she doesn’t want.  and along came mr. right, you get the picture.  i can’t do this.  as an artist, i CAN’T sit and look at the beautiful all day long, because that isn’t where all the heart tearing emotions lie.

the heart tearing emotions, the things that MOVE us are in the dark!  they are lying in a gutter, homeless and underfed.  they are sitting at the table with a morning cup of coffee, crying over their mashed up marriage or their dying soul.  they are tying themselves up in sheets at night from tossing and turning over their nightmares.  THIS is where the interest is for a writer, or painter, or a poet.  the angst.  the pain.  the agonizing loneliness of life.

because we all feel it at times, and tapping into that commonality is magical, and links us all together till we are one spool of thread.

so all you blogging authors and feely artists out there, how do we make The Secret work for us, without losing the inspiration that grief and sorrow provide?

discuss:

blues

i don’t want to go to work today.  it’s beautiful out: rainy, foggy, green grass greener than the crayon in my box.  the wind is blowing, but it’s still warm enough to have the windows open.

this is a day for writing, and imagination.  this is a day for creativity, inspiration, and a long nap with a kitty and a mushed up pillow.  this isn’t a day to be indoors with grumpy patrons and testy people who only want you for an ear to bend about their list of life long problems.  this isn’t a day for weird people who alter your energy because they are from another galaxy far away and have been sent here to warn the earth about impending doom because we haven’t been drinking the right kind of water.

this is a snuggly day, for peace and relaxation and … snuggling.  not work.

damn i hate mondays.

 

Paper Art

Paper Art.

loving it … this is uber cool.  i don’t know how anyone has the patience or the filangial dexterity for this.  i’m pretty sure i would burst a vital organ if i tried this.

moody blues

it’s like this … i have all these ideas, and projects, and books to write…rooms to clean…stuff and more stuff.  and i get this wave of inspiration, or this brilliant flow of creativity.  and i’m motivated, not sleeping because the ideas won’t let me, and the hunger to create keeps me up all night, kooky on caffeine, or wakes me up early so that i am groggy and can hardly make it down the stairs without breaking a leg or squishing a cat.  and then it happens.  i get to the computer and it all leaks out of my brain.  all that good creativity, oozing out of my ears.  all that brilliance, spreading over my cushion as my head collapses onto the couch and my eyes force themselves shut.  it’s like this:

 

an endless climbing journey that i can never reach the top of.  that i want to conquer and say “look at me, i did it!”

although, the journey may be the best part of the whole damn mess of life; climbing this creative ladder may be more of what i need than a final product.

hmmm…not very Zen today, am i?  maybe i just need more coffee…

 

birds of peace

quaint house down the street with a

big statement and hopeful intentions

“street flowers” picture album

downloading…

Today is a downloading day for me. I have these moments, and sometimes days, pretty regularly. It’s not that I’m depressed, because I’m not really. How can I be depressed on a gorgeous day like today? The trees are phenomenally gorgeous, sprinkling my walk with more color than my eyes can consume. Green trees, yellow trees, trees that want to be orange, red, green, burgundy and ochre all at the same time. Some clumps are all bold and brilliant, and other patches of trees are soft, silvery, mauve. The brilliant blue sky sports whispy clouds that float through the air with no apparent agenda or time frame. It’s a gorgeous, warm, relaxed October day, and I am downloading. I often have direction, goals or intentions. I wake up thinking about a project I need to work on, a task I need to complete, chores I have been putting off or a hobby I want to get back to. I have to work out, I have to make a grocery list, I need to repair a broken earring or watch a movie rental before it’s due back. I might have social obligations or volunteer duties to attend to. And usually, my brain is full of ideas, thoughts, aspirations, longings, chatter, songs and intense curiosity about everything around me. On downloading days I have none of this. I’m neither tired nor energetic. I’m neither depressed nor excited. I have no specific desires or ambitions, and often find myself indecisive, not sure which direction to go. I call these downloading days because it’s like my brain has had enough frenetic activity lately and needs an hour (or twenty) to just buzz. The stuff in my brain is just rattling around and looking for somewhere to land. It’s like I’m downloading something on my computer, and I just have to wait. I can’t do anything else because whatever is downloading just isn’t done yet, so I sit and watch football, or go for a long walk, or talk emotionlessly to someone about nothing of interest. It’s just a day. A beautiful, gorgeous, perfect day; but a day I might enjoy better had my brain been fully engaged.

my dark beauty

today i feel so beautiful and peaceful. my masks are falling away, bit by bit. i am like a precious present wrapped in layers of tissue. and my faces and falseness, my walls and defenses, my fears and obstacles and pretenses all are slipping off me, and it’s just me left. and now i can be anything. i am pliable and moldable, and i can make myself as i wish. and i don’t really know who i am, but i’m excited to find out. ‘cause it’s my dark beauty that is my muse. it’s the dark child in me that makes me beautiful. and powerful. and a gifted, important, creative artist. it’s my dark side that has the story to tell, and the fire to tell it, and tell it well. so i love this dark child that is me – that i’ve hidden and denied. i love the body she is in and the way she will see the world. and she is powerful. and emotional. and magical. and dark.
and she is me.