May 23, 2010
Attitude is everything, right? Yes and no. Attitude does not compensate for skill. There are many successful artists who are not necessarily the most talented, but they had the guts to put their work out there.
Conversely, there many talented artists who have hidden their talents due to a fear of rejection. But what’s caused this fear of rejection or failure? Where did you acquire the notion that your work is not good enough or you do not desire to live your life’s dream of making the world more beautiful.
Think back to the times when someone tried to dissuade you from pursuing your craft. Write about this incident in detail. Next, why do you suppose the person said this to you? Why do you suppose this person tried to discourage you? Perhaps they were once discouraged. Now write about how this incident has affected you, but most importantly, how you will not allow this incident to affect you in the future.
Reclaim your right to artfully express yourself. Adopt an audacious attitude.
January 20, 2010
What happens when a man’s spirit dies? When his spirit is gone, he has no desire to live life fully.
The preference of a solitary life, living vicariously through others, or residing only in your comfort zone is a strong indication that you are not living your life fully.
When a man rests comfortably in a life of complete solitude, rejecting intimate connections based on fear of loss or resentment of past transgressions, he is lacking a crucial element that humans need to flourish: love.
When a woman decides to misplace her unrealized dreams onto another, acting as an overzealous cheerleader, she has effectively lost one crucial element that humans need to propel life forward: passion.
When a man decides to perpetually live in a space where comfort is a constant companion, consistently resisting change or idling within the boundaries of complacency, he is missing one crucial element humans need to grow: freedom.
So what happens when a man’s spirit dies? He ceases to live.
November 23, 2009
Since I was an English Lit major in undergrad, I always envisioned myself writing the next great American novel. This lofty aspiration was influenced by two factors:
- A mandatory curriculum consisting of classical literary greats like Walt Whitman, Emily Dickson, and of course Shakespeare. (They were so great they each had semester-long courses dedicated to dissecting their words.)
- The great expectation that I could effortlessly pen award-winning literature.
In the course of ten years, I would set out at least once a year to craft this work of literary genius. Each and every time, I never made it pass the tenth page. I became daunted by the sheer magnitude of the task – the length and the quality. I was daunted by my own expectations.
When I would sit down to write, I would leap at least a year into the future. Thoughts of criticism, not delivering perfect literature, and the potential for failure completely clouded my present mind, which I needed to actually write.
I would look at the few pages I actually managed to write, and dismissed them as a futile attempt by an amateur. Essentially, I would give up before I ever even started.
I think it’s ironic how perfectionism – our desire to be flawless – keeps us from doing so many things. We want to be perfect in what we do, that we end up doing nothing. And if we produce nothing, then there is nothing to perfect.
Perfection is one of the greatest tricks of the mind. We convince ourselves of what is perfect, and then convince ourselves that we cannot live up to it. When I read the works by literary greats, instead of learning from and appreciating them, I would convince myself that I had to measure up to them.
Great expectations will always lead to great disappointment.
Now I just do my best, resolving that I have produced my best work with the knowledge and resources available to me in that moment. Now I just hope that someone reading my work can simply learn from it and appreciate it.
