As a lay here in bed listening to some smooth jazz. I wonder, and as I wonder I start to regain motivation again. An idea starts slowly bubbling inside me and I awake from my meditation, I stumble sleepily towards the laptop.
The white light almost blinding in the darkness of the night, appears as a beacon of hope for the restlessness inside me.
I begin to type and as I type my body overcome with action moves across the keyboard. Line after line, I am slowly turning into a human being again.
My body aches and my legs feel numb. Another day, another story but the story seems to always be the same. Wake-up, work, eat, sleep, rinse, repeat. How long will it go on? Will the cycle never end?
Well, there are big chances that it wont. That this is what I will do every day of my life. Alone in the wreckage of my mind, alone in my studio, cracking out another piece of art, for a client, for a big elaborate plan I’ve had for years. Or simply just another way to escape the sadness inside? Whatever it is, I toil away at my desk, at my canvas, at my laptop. Wondering, if perhaps I’m doing it all wrong. If perhaps I should just give up and go get a job somewhere else, a 9-5 where I hate co-workers and my boss screams at me, and I get paid minimum wage, but I realize what that means and it all quickly passes.
Something inside me bursts, and I realize that it’s better to be here than over there. That I am living my dream, even when things feel so slow and so boring. Yet if I slow down, and start MAKING TIME to enjoy the process, I regain a sense of purpose. When I enjoy each brush stroke, each line of on the paper, each picture I take. I remember, I remember that this is exactly what I was born to do. When I start making time to be present, to smell the air of my studio, to enjoy the coffee in the morning and the yoga in the evening. The cycle stops being so cyclical, each moment becomes an experience, a whole journey inside it self. Almost all of a sudden, I feel joy again, and I’m ready to start another day.
It’s all about perspective. Focus on the bad, and more bad will appear, focus on the good and more good will manifest. Focus on the moment, and the moment will be all that there is.
We spend so much time thinking of the past, or the future, that we ultimately live anywhere but in the now, as artists and creatives the now is the only place where we can create. To live outside of the now, is to live outside of yourself.
What is an artist but the physical tool of the Gods? Manifesting through us the divine poesy of truth. Making the intangible, tangible. From nothing to something, from darkness to light. From the sky to the earth, we are but bridges to the ethereal.
What if the bridge is broken? What if it no longer wants to be a bridge? Do you break it all down? Do you close it off and deny passage across the river? Perhaps you’d rather strengthen it, remind the bridge that it’s valuable and that without it, dozens, hundreds, thousands, millions of people are able to pass through the rivers of their lives? The bridge is valuable. And you are important, for the bridge is you and you are the river, and the bridge is the river and there is no river, there is only time and space, and everything in the nothingness, and nothingness in the everything.
As I make time for making time, I realize that the sun is up and I hop onto my feet, put on my shoes and go tackle yet another day, for this bridge must become river once more.