The latest hit song on the radio may be complete garbage, the kind that you will sing over and over to yourself while figuring out how to self-lobotomize and still get to work on time, and you may wonder why anyone would bother to write that song.
Many artists and creative people share the same traits – intensely passionate, selfish, chaotic and disorganized, moody and emotional – and I’m learning that I’m not as different from that as I might have thought. In some other ways even, I’m finding that I desire a little more of that creative craziness than what I allow myself.
…in the end I still feel free. I’m free because I’m still making my paintings, writing my poetry playing my music. I’m doing it. I’m not held back or swayed by invalidation or fear. I’m not paralyzed by opinion or embittered by judgment.
It’s not like a mathematical equation, perfectly balanced, or a carefully crafted symphony set in movements and always in tune and on time. Grief is just not that simple or neat.