Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Flying Girls and Sleeping Kitties
Oh what will it be this evening, hmmm? A small 4 bite sized entenmens chocolate cake? a heated cherry pie? A crumb/pound cake combination. My god dear girls, and fishboy, it will be one of them.
Before I go out to purchase more love handles, first I want to leave you with this thought - we all have much in common. Although one can be a lawyer and another housebound because of sickness to her bed - most of us have been creatively damaged. And wow if that isnt apparent in a comment i received the other day about how my paper dolls could be better if I put the arms underneath the dress instead of on top. This is a wonderful example of what to do as Goddess Ambassadors who are not mere mortals with egos to get bruised but JUICY ladies (and fishboy) who can spot a wounded creative soul from a mile away.
Wounded souls need for things to be the same - to be predictable - and impressive. They want high brow art, the kind that looks photo realistic, and compare other types of art to be lesser in importance. Now, this wounded soul was more than likely earnestly trying to help me from embarrassing myself and educating me in the proper way to make a doll. But this is the point, here, I have one, Im getting to it, wait for it....what is sad is that she could not even for a minute even for the funnest puppet show EVER, just enjoy little figures without improving them! I liked how the arms were sticks. Hell they didnt have hands! Why then, if a puppet doesnt have hands, why should the rest of their anatomy be correct? It doesnt. of course. and how much more fun when it doesnt. How unexpected. arms, like sticks! Poking into the air like disco fever riga-mortis freaks!
Trying to control anothers artwork, trying to make everyones art, and yours included, as the most perfect it could possibly be, is a symptom of a much scarier problem. It all goes back to zen and living in the moment. WHATEVER is given to you, poopie, here, not feeling so well, eating only baby food (meat flavor is his fav) and having a bit of a parkinsons shake now and then, this is my moment. I cant change it. I cant save him. His time is not over but over is somewhat near. Things will probably get worse.
Im saying that your art, your cat, your roommates dirty dishes, yes, yes, life is not about sitting under a tree and taking no action - you take your cat to the vet, you have a discussion with your slob ass roommate, but at some point you must accept WHAT IS without thinking it needs to be differently. You can wish you painted like Rembrandt. Thats fine. you can even practice to be like him, but appreciate where you are right now just as much. and that is what I mean. Dont keep trying to perfect your lives or other peoples lives. Its ok my black sweatpants are covered in cat hair and that I have little nail bitten nubs jetting out from my palms. Its the way it is and damn it, it sure beats living under the dirt. right?
yay for making anything at all. for having the energy to pick up a red crayon and scribbling. cause damn it you CAN.