This is pretty funny. Check it out. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwbHyQ7jI98&feature=youtube_gdata
I think that there's maybe 350 people or so in this line here at Barton Crk. Mall. This IS the 'reservations' line. I'm not sure how fast or not the line is moving. I just got here.
It's the easiest thing to be the caricature of yourself. The cartoon version. The one that's only partially in touch with that which is real.
It's much harder to be honest. To see one's self for who one really is.
It's moments of reality that point out this hard truth. That one has been floating on the surface. Separated from the true fear. Living the fiction of one's own story. Confronted with the real, how are the knees? Are they solid or do they tremble with the wieght of that which one has been ignorant of?
Upon this moment there is a catching of the breath. One realizes that one has not really seen, not really been in touch with the real--with the elements of one's own fear. How is one to be in touch with that and yet not be negative, not be summoning it forth, creating it with one's own thoughtforms? To be in touch with the bed of it, yet not to create it or invoke it by that very awareness? Perhaps these would be moments of Illumination and to ask to reside in them only would be perhaps like asking there to be no night in life, but only and always just to live by the light of the Sun? Or to ask perhaps that all shade be banished?
Aahh, and that would make no sense would it?
Don't you just love it when you accidentally answer your own question?
It's much harder to be honest. To see one's self for who one really is.
It's moments of reality that point out this hard truth. That one has been floating on the surface. Separated from the true fear. Living the fiction of one's own story. Confronted with the real, how are the knees? Are they solid or do they tremble with the wieght of that which one has been ignorant of?
Upon this moment there is a catching of the breath. One realizes that one has not really seen, not really been in touch with the real--with the elements of one's own fear. How is one to be in touch with that and yet not be negative, not be summoning it forth, creating it with one's own thoughtforms? To be in touch with the bed of it, yet not to create it or invoke it by that very awareness? Perhaps these would be moments of Illumination and to ask to reside in them only would be perhaps like asking there to be no night in life, but only and always just to live by the light of the Sun? Or to ask perhaps that all shade be banished?
Aahh, and that would make no sense would it?
Don't you just love it when you accidentally answer your own question?
Writing is for the writer.
The Art is for the Artist.
The Release is in the Act.
The process is the doing.
The doing is the healing.
What more do you want?
Greed corrupts. Leave it alone.
Let beauty and love be the simplicity they are.
Isn't that enough?
If you Love what you do, you do it anyway: applause or not, attention or not, approval or not, agreement or not, people or not, money or not.
If there is Love in your Art,
Then you can safely pay no mind to the temporal, whether coming or going. It all has a flow and a movement like the cycle of the tides.
Even if you do not see it, what does it matter?
Do what you Love to do.
The Art is for the Artist.
The Release is in the Act.
The process is the doing.
The doing is the healing.
What more do you want?
Greed corrupts. Leave it alone.
Let beauty and love be the simplicity they are.
Isn't that enough?
If you Love what you do, you do it anyway: applause or not, attention or not, approval or not, agreement or not, people or not, money or not.
If there is Love in your Art,
Then you can safely pay no mind to the temporal, whether coming or going. It all has a flow and a movement like the cycle of the tides.
Even if you do not see it, what does it matter?
Do what you Love to do.
