Art-As-Therapy Experience

Things live. Things die. Things are reborn. Things experience the opportunity to express the variant degrees of existence from the perspective of where they fall in the scope of things. Life is filled to capacity with things. All kinds of things. Salute those things in everyday existence in the manner of where you stand in the mysterious scheme of things.

In life, we simply move one pile of dirt from this place to that. We tear down in order to create. It’s all a matter of shuffling things around. The sacred earth does not belong to any of us. Yet, she is gracious enough to let us push,prod,pull, dig, plummet, explode, and distort as we, humans, see fit. Road Scrapers, Bull Dozers, Cranes, Dump Trucks, and the like have a unique affinity with the land they shift around; they honor/respect the power and sovereignty it contains.

At one time or another, as human beings, we realize we are standing over the abyss of our own empty desires. What horrendous uncertainty we imagine, {while blowing the dreaded outcome out of proportion, waiting for the unreliable emotional barometer to measure something of valid appreciation] freezes us in our tracks, momentarily. We say,”We don’t know what to do, which way to turn, or how to recover.” But we do KNOW. We simply want some sort sort of guarantee before proceeding. Inexplicable inertia lasts but for a season…

We all have our jobs to do. Some know what they must do and do it well. Some know but resent it because they have never resolved themselves to who they are, including what it takes for them to fulfill their individual needs. Few, realize the beauty in their jobs as an extension of themselves.They see the liberating truth of their tasks as nothing but the actual joy it contains. Work is thy only true salvation. Santa knows this!

It is easy to discard things; to cast them out without want or wander. It is just as easy, if not more so, to accumulate clutter with little or no regard for the significance or shadow it bears. Have you ever once stopped to consider why you possess so much stuff? And, even more important, why after you’ve grown tired, weary, or simply disinterested in the object, you cast it aside without having contemplated or measured its proper relevance in your life. Think back, when did you acquire the thing? Under what circumstances? Why, on that particular day were you so captured by its radiance, peculiarity, or necessity? Then, in a moment of decrease, decline, dismissal, you decided just as easily that it had no further value to you so you threw it away. When, why, how, and for what intent did it fall into the category of dishonor? How can anything come into your life so easily and then slip out so unstudied? Stuff just does nott appear in your life without a definite motivation on your part. Whether it be by your own hands or someone else, you are in some way connected to the stuff that shows up. You can learn so much about a person simply by looking at his/her trash. What’s in yours?

Everybody’s got a story; so what? Between mine, yours and the other fellow’s, there might be a smidgen of truth between us. Mortals have the unfortunate trait of retelling (exaggerating) the stories of their lives in a favorable or unfavorable light depending on the circumstance and, most especially, who is listening. We all remember the things that make us the hero or victim. It depends upon exactly what it is we want from the person who we are ‘stating our facts’ to. Nothing in our memories are even close to the actual episodes. Time, experience and depth of pride or regret distorts things miserably.

The moment you seek something it flees. The moment you speak a word it dissolves. The moment you view a situation, it shifts. The moment you encounter a person, the probability of ever knowing that person diminishes. Your unwarranted interference disables the relevancy of the truth of which it represents.

Instinctively, we KNOW we are all guided into those indecipherable places, inexplicable spheres of activity, unlikely people and incalculable events that are directly linked to our specific artistic destiny. We discern the impervious truth hidden beneath the surface; yet we coyly claim to to be ignorant of the vitally necessary but apparent ‘unpleasant ‘ consequences associated. We would like to interpret the relationships as anything contrary to our invigorating and stimulating nature. But, we KNOW the difference. We KNOW what infuses us! Confidence is never needed when following the passion of one deepest soul ‘s urge without courteous defiant resistance. Dare to ‘kick down the door’ of shallow inhibition and dubious restraint. Be not concerned with appearances; be consumed in pleasure.